Enhancing Campus Capacity for Leadership: An Examination of Grassroots Leaders in Higher Education 9780804781626

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Enhancing Campus Capacity for Leadership

Enhancing Campus Capacity for Leadership An Examination of Grassroots Leaders in Higher Education

Adrianna J. Kezar and Jaime Lester

;

stanford university press stanford, california

Stanford University Press Stanford, California © 2011 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system without the prior written permission of Stanford University Press. Printed in the United States of America on acid-free, archival-quality paper Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Kezar, Adrianna J., author. Enhancing campus capacity for leadership : an examination of grassroots leaders in higher education / Adrianna J. Kezar and Jaime Lester. pages  cm Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8047-7647-9 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Educational leadership—United States.  2. Universities and colleges— United States—Administration.  I. Lester, Jaime, author.  II. Title. LB2341.K452  2011 378.1'11—dc22         2011007044 Typeset by Thompson Type in 10/12 Sabon

Contents

Acknowledgments, vii Preface, ix part i Background and Context, 1 1.  Grassroots Leadership: Making the Invisible Visible, 3 2.  Framing the Study: Tempered Radicals Framework, 29 3.  Developing a Study of Grassroots Leaders: Approach to Inquiry, Assumptions, and Institutional Descriptions, 44 part ii Individual and Group Grassroots Phenomena, 69 4.  Meet the Grassroots Leaders, 71 5.  Tactics and Strategy for Creating Meaningful Change, 97 6.  Analyzing and Overcoming Obstacles and Challenges for Grassroots Leadership, 121 7.  Encounters with Authority and Power: Ways Grassroots Leaders Navigate Resistance and Oppression, 148 8.  Grassroots Leaders’ Understanding of Power and Effects on Leadership Style, 177 9.  Remaining Resilient, 199

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part iii Organizational Grassroots Phenomena, Implications, and Conclusion, 225 10.  Top-Down Meets Bottom-Up: Challenges and Opportunities, 227 11.  Leading in a Time of Corporatization: The Impact of Institutional Structures and Culture, 250 12.  Encouraging and Supporting Faculty and Staff Grassroots Leadership, 266 13.  Moving Forward: Leadership Implications and Future Research, 287 Appendix: Grassroots Leadership, 317 Notes, 335 References, 341 Index, 349

Acknowledgments

We want to thank the grassroots leadership team who worked on the overall project and contributed to our understanding of this topic and for whom we have developed long-term friendships with and respect: Tricia Bertram Gallant, Melissa Contreras-McGavin, and Rozana Carducci. We would also like to thank the reviewers of the book who provided important and helpful feedback and to our editor Margo Beth Crouppen for believing in the book. Also, we want to thank the grassroots leaders on each campus that we visited for offering up their time, for sharing their stories, and for the work that they do day in and day out.

Preface

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever does. —Margaret Mead

Walk through any bookstore, and look at the biography section; there are countless books about people in powerful positions. Biographies of presidents, influential activists, successful business leaders, and prominent historical figures dominate the bookshelves. Society heroizes those in positions of authority and those who develop authority by virtue of a strong influence over large groups (such as Martin Luther King Jr.). What is missing from the bookshelves is a focus on everyday people who create positive change despite their lack of national recognition, formal position of authority, and large group of followers. In a world where the future is seemingly guided and directed by those in power (at least through the eyes of the media and publishing world), the contribution of the majority of the people who create and shape our society is often unrecognized. While the common image of leadership and change in both societies and institutions is quite narrow, there is a growing collection of work that spotlights the efforts of everyday leaders who create changes and better our world. The successful grassroots organizing of the Obama campaign is responsible for some of the growing interest. People now have a prominent example, within their own experience and generation, of the power of organizing and working from the bottom up. One example of the growing interest in understanding grassroots leadership is National Public Radio’s (NPR’s) forum, where the hosts interview and give voice to grassroots and community leaders. Reaching audiences across the country, NPR highlights the activities of local activists who have significantly changed their communities through

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grassroots ­organizing. For example, Alice Coles transformed Bayview, Virginia—an African American community—into a bustling modern town. Other biographers are moving beyond famous and/or controversial figures to tell the stories of more common individuals who have created meaningful changes. For example, Bornstein’s (2007) book How to change the world: Social entrepreneurs and the power of new ideas documents everyday social entrepreneurs that use their grassroots skills to develop innovative solutions to the most vexing social problems. This is not to say that grassroots leaders, outside institutional settings, have not been documented, such as Rosa Parks, but their accomplishments are often seen as an exception, not as the work of the average person. Even the media are beginning to explore grassroots leaders. In 2009, the Los Angeles Times told the story of Rekha, a twelve-year-old child in rural India who refused to marry and wanted to stay in school. With encouragement from her teacher and older sister, she stayed in school until the age of eighteen. She has now become a national symbol and advocate for the campaign against child marriage. Her simple act of defiance, followed by a choice that emboldened her and made her happy, has led her to create a newsletter and speaker series to encourage children to stay in school. Rekha’s activities have led to thousands of children delaying marriage. The Kellogg Foundation also focuses on grassroots activism by providing research-based leadership development for grassroots leaders. This book follows in this growing tradition of giving voice to grassroots leaders who often have a different vision of the world from those in positions of power. We also provide leaders support by developing research on successful strategies and tactics for grassroots leaders and helping them overcome the inevitable obstacles and challenges. This book is also unique in its contribution by examining leadership within educational contexts. Future generations of leaders and change agents will emerge and develop within postsecondary settings. The way that leadership is conceptualized and framed within colleges and universities is extremely important to the future direction of society. We believe that students will benefit if educational institutions foster grassroots leadership on campus among faculty, staff, and students. How better to create the next generation of leaders than to demonstrate and role model that leadership and change is the work of all citizens, not just those with titles, power, and money? We hope that this book can further the emerging literature base on grassroots leaders in educational settings—particularly as we explore new issues that have gone unexamined, such as how



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grassroots leaders define and understand power, how this affects their approach to leadership, and how grassroots leaders create a strategy that successfully fits their institutional setting. These and many other issues will be addressed on the following pages.

Enhancing Campus Capacity for Leadership

PA RT I

Background and Context

chapter one

Grassroots Leadership Making the Invisible Visible

; Janine is a biologist who has watched students struggle in her classes for years—particularly those who cannot overcome math deficiencies. Few institutional supports exist, and she has no place to send students for additional academic assistance. After talking to several other colleagues, she realizes the issue is prevalent in other science majors. Janine discovers some helpful teaching techniques and new texts she can use with students, and she begins to offer an informal math support skills group that gains great popularity. Students tell her she is fundamentally changing their understanding of math. Yet this effort begins to create a great deal of additional work. She speaks with her department chair about getting a course release to offer the support group, but he feels that his hands are tied because of tight finances and refuses. Janine organizes several colleagues to contact the chair to discuss the importance of the support group. After a few months of communication by colleagues and students, the chair accedes and temporarily allows her a course release. In the meantime, Janine sets out to get broader campus support for math support skills. She collects data (preand posttests related to performance) in her support group to demonstrate the impact of her tutoring efforts. She presents these data to the academic senate and administration. Within the year, a math support center opens. Although resources are temporary, if the center demonstrates outcomes similar to her support group, campus administrators agree to provide ongoing funds. Over the next two years, Janine works with the center director to set up an advisory board of faculty and to gain campus support, and she collects data on the efficacy of the center. Many faculty and staff talk about Janine’s work with pride—she identified a real need and developed a change that made students more successful. While this problem had existed for years on campus, it had never been addressed and maybe never would have been without Janine’s efforts. This book is about people like Janine— bottom-up leaders who make important changes that often go largely unnoticed, unacknowledged, and often unsupported. Greater understanding of people like Janine may lead to more support for bottom-up changes on college campuses that can improve student learning and college completion.

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Leadership remains one of the most important topics across a range of fields because studies continuously demonstrate that the success and well-being of any institution or society depend on the functionality, effectiveness, and promotion of leaders and leadership (Conger & Benjamin, 1999). Traditionally, leadership research has focused on individuals in positions of power, such as presidents and CEOs, and has seen leadership as an individual attribute (Kezar, Carducci, & Contreras-McGavin, 2006a).1 But, in the last twenty years, a variety of scholars have proposed that leadership is not synonymous with authority and have examined the role of other individuals within the organization and their contributions to institutional operations and change (Astin & Leland, 1991; Kanter, 1983; Meyerson, 2003; Pearce & Conger, 2003). These newer definitions of leadership also attempt to distinguish the work of managers and leaders because often the work of managers (budgeting, hiring, decision making) has become synonymous with leadership (Bass, 2009). Instead, the nonhierarchical views of leadership have defined and understood leadership to be distinctive from management (although the two are not mutually exclusive) and involved creating change (Astin & Leland, 1991; Bensimon & Neumann, 1993; Komives & Wagner, 2009; Pearce & Conger, 2003). Furthermore, leadership has expanded to be considered a process that involves groups and is not executed only by individuals. Over time, departing from traditional, hierarchical, and authority-­based models, new models of leadership have emerged, such as team-based, shared, and distributed leadership (Astin & Leland, 1991; Bensimon & Neumann, 1993; Komives & Wagner, 2009; Pearce & Conger, 2003). Team and shared models identify and examine the role of individuals outside authority in leadership and consider leadership a collective process that is working to create change (Pearce & ­Conger, 2003). In our research, we defined leadership as an effort by groups or individuals to create change, drawing on these newer definitions of leadership that distinguished management from leadership and did not assume that authority was synonymous with leadership. The business and nonprofit literatures are replete with texts that describe ways to improve team-based forms of leadership and create more ownership among employees and further innovation within organizations (Bass, 2009; Pearce & Conger, 2003). Within shared leadership, leadership is broadly distributed among a set of individuals and decentralized to groups of leaders who act in the role traditionally reserved for supervisors or managers (Pearce & Conger, 2003; Senge, 1990). Also, leadership may be viewed as bidirectional between what have traditionally been called leaders and followers. Both downward and upward hierarchical influence is examined. Traditional models of leadership focus



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only on the downward influence of leaders on subordinates and also focus on a single individual in authority who plays a leadership role. A variety of research studies support the need to expand leadership from the hands of a few leaders to a broader group of stakeholders in organizations (Bensimon & Neumann, 1993; Pearce & Conger, 2003). In fact, Pearce and Conger demonstrate that studies over the past 100 years have pointed in this direction but that the overwhelming bias toward heroic, individual, hierarchical leaders prevented scholars and practitioners from conceptualizing and adopting the outcomes of these numerous studies. In other words, the efficacy of involving multiple individuals outside positions of authority and working in collectives kept emerging in studies as related to important leadership outcomes such as problem solving, change, innovation, and strategic decision making. Outcomes supported by shared leadership include increased problemsolving abilities, greater creativity, organizational effectiveness, effectiveness of groups, more motivation and dedication by member of leadership groups, satisfaction with decision making, greater social integration and more positive relationships within organizations, and collective efficacy (Pearce & Conger, 2003). Most team-based, shared, and distributed leadership models expand who is considered a leader but still connect the team-based leadership to the agenda and direction established by those in positions of authority. For example, people in positions of authority form teams for their purposes and goals. This book is rooted in definitions of and conceptions of shared leadership, which expand definitions of leadership to include a greater number of people, to conceptualize it as a collective, and to include those not in authority positions. This book also takes a significant departure from this tradition. We examine bottom-up leadership that can be largely independent of top-down efforts. We explain this departure from shared leadership later in this chapter. While the corporate and nonprofit literature has shifted emphasis quite dramatically over the years, the educational literature, particularly in higher education, has been slow to move to team-based and non– authority-based models of leadership (Kezar et al., 2006a). 2 Academics may perceive that the tradition of shared governance3 reflects a shared leadership process on college campuses and that expanding notions of leadership is unnecessary (Birnbaum, 1992; Cohen & March, 1974). Yet, mostly a traditional authority-based notion and individual-focused notion of leadership are reflected in the higher education literature (Bensimon, Neumann, & Birnbaum, 1989; Kezar et al., 2006a). Higher education scholarship on leadership is geared toward enhancing the effectiveness of individuals in positions of authority: college presidents,

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provosts, deans, and department chairs (samples include Birnbaum, 1992; Fisher & Koch, 1996, 2004; Fisher, Tack & Wheeler, 1988; Kerr & Gade, 1986; Lucas, 1994). A plethora of books and articles equates presidential leadership with the notion of leadership on campus. In fact, Cohen and March’s book Leadership and Ambiguity (1974) questions the president’s authority on campus as leader, and at the time it was published many considered it blasphemous. Twenty years of debate followed the book’s publication because it challenged this fundamental assumption (Bensimon et al., 1989; Kerr & Gade, 1986). In a similar, more subtle attempt to make a departure from the top-down approaches to leadership, Birnbaum’s (1992) book on academic leadership focuses on the prominent role of presidents who should recognize other campus stakeholders to be successful leaders. It is surprising that the leadership literature is focused on those in positions of authority given that the organizational literature in higher education documents faculty, as professionals, having autonomy in the workplace, defining much of their own working environment, and developing mechanisms such as shared governance to have a voice (and presumably play a leadership role) within the institution (Baldridge et al., 1977; Birnbaum, 1988; Clark, 1983; Duryea, 1973). For example, Clark’s extensive study of college and university organization notes that there are dual authority structures, with administrators having hierarchical and faculty having professional and expert-based power and authority. Also, the overriding emphasis in the leadership literature on the power of presidents and boards seems problematic given the many constraints and limitations on their power over faculty- and professionalbased power, the influence of departments that have delegated decision making on many campuses, collective bargaining, and even external groups such as accreditators or state policy makers (Birnbaum, 1988; Clark, 1983; Cohen & March, 1974).4 In a review of the leadership literature, Bensimon, Neumann, and Birnbaum (1989) call attention to the lack of connection between the organizational and leadership literatures in higher education. They argue that leadership plays out differently than is often presented because of these distinctive characteristics of higher education—faculty autonomy and professional status, academic freedom, dual authority structures, and the like. The argument made by Bensimon and her coauthors (1989) builds off Cohen and March’s (1974) leadership research that found presidents to be constrained in their authority by the structure and organizational context of higher education, particularly within the research university context, where faculty have more power than in other sectors. Cohen and March document the issues of faculty autonomy, departmental delegated authority, shared governance structures such as committees



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and senates, and even the roles of boards and external constituencies who can assert their power. Given these multiple influences and sources of authority, individuals such as presidents are constrained. Cohen and March also point to the ambiguity of goals within higher education pursuing teaching, research and service missions, and the complex web or structure of universities with the proliferation of divisions without a simple bureaucracy but instead a professional bureaucracy that makes lines of authority diffuse and unclear and somewhat chaotic. Cohen and March labeled these various characteristics and constraints as an organized anarchy. While later scholars have debated the relevance of this characterization for other institutional types beyond research universities (Birnbaum, 1988; Kerr & Gade, 1986), the work is significant for relating organizational context and structure to the process of leadership, which had largely been decontextualized. Bensimon and her coauthors (1989) argue that top-down leadership models used within corporations were not a strong fit for higher education with its unique organizational structure. While much of the leadership literature that followed did not accept the challenge posed by Bensimon and her colleagues to reenvision leadership in higher education as distinctive from corporate, top-down models and to contextualize leadership research within our best knowledge about organizations (ambiguous goal, professional bureaucracy, dual authority structures), Birnbaum and Neumann, writing individually and together, created works that were embedded within this new perspective on studying leadership (Kezar et al., 2006a). A recent review of the leadership literature in higher education by Kezar and her coauthors documents that the literature remains mostly devoid of the organizational context, maintains the top-down authority-based view of leadership, and sees leadership as an individual, not collective, process or phenomenon. We point out these important pieces that deviate from the overarching trends in the literature as we are building on this tradition of departing from a top-down view of leadership and authority and conceptualizing leadership as shaped by higher education organizational theory and research. Another book that takes a significant departure and has examined team-based forms of leadership on college campus is Bensimon and Neumann’s (1993) Redesigning Collegiate Leadership. While the research focuses on presidential cabinets and still connects leadership to authority, the book focuses on how higher education leadership should be more collective and team based given the organization of higher education with professional staff, shared governance, and the need to draw on expertise throughout the organization. Yet, Bensimon and Neumann’s book is important as it was the first in higher education to consider

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leadership to be a collective process. In recent years, a few studies in higher education have begun to examine leadership from beyond the perspective of those in positions of authority. Helen Astin and Carol Leland’s (1991) study of leaders in the women’s movement examined faculty who created major changes on college campuses. Their research challenged conventional notions of leadership—leadership as the use of power by authority figures to create a change defined by executives—and reframed leadership as a process of collective action by individuals throughout an organization who use unique strategies such as empowerment and consciousness raising to facilitate change. Astin and Leland demonstrate how women who were not in positions of power created significant change on college campuses and played important leadership roles. More recently, Lynn Safarick (2003) and Jeni Hart (2005, 2007) have demonstrated how women’s studies or centers for women have played leadership roles from their “marginal” status outside the circles of power on campus: transforming the curriculum, diversifying faculty and staff, and changing the climate of college campuses. Also, a recent National Association of Student Personnel Administrators (NASPA) publication (Wolf-Wendel et al., 2004) focused on the leadership role student affairs staff played in facilitating civil rights movements on college campuses. Finally, Wergin’s (2007) edited book on “leadership in place” argues for the importance of faculty leadership outside formal positions such as senate president or department chair. Collectively, all of these studies suggest that important leadership does happen among faculty and staff and outside those in positions of authority on campus. However, we know very little about this leadership beyond these few historical or single-campus case studies. What we are lacking is a comprehensive understanding of the experiences, role, strategies, and practices of bottom-up or grassroots leaders in educational settings. We also know very little about how bottom-up and top-down efforts work in concert. Grassroots leaders are individuals who do not have formal positions of authority, are operating from the bottom up, and are interested in and pursue organizational changes that often challenge the status quo of the institution. Grassroots leadership is defined in social movement literature as the stimulation of social change or the challenge of the status quo by those who lack formal authority, delegated power, or “institutionalized methods for doing so” (Wilson, 1973, p. 32). Grassroots leadership is a nonhierarchical and often collective and noninstitutionalized process. Leaders are typically volunteers and not hired or employed to lead efforts. Grassroots leaders are distinctive from those in positions of authority who tend to have a structure in place to enact leadership through rewards, establishing formal positions and responsibilities, and delegating



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authority. Those in positions of authority also have a formal network of people who are conducting the same work. Grassroots leaders typically have to create their own structure, network, and support systems. What does this type of leadership look like? Similar to Janine in the opening vignette, grassroots leaders might be a set of chemistry professors, who after realizing that students are graduating without an understanding of environmental problems come together to devise and ad­ vocate for fundamental changes in undergraduate education. Another example might be two staff members who recognize that gay and lesbian students are not safe on campus and then develop a resource center to help those students be successful and feel included. A grassroots leader can also be the assistant professor who decides to create awareness and develop solutions for helping custodial staff after he learns that their recently reduced benefits program compromises their rights, as well as campus service. These are all examples of changes occurring on college campuses that are not well documented. We do not have an appreciation of the various change initiatives and agendas of bottom-up leaders, strategies of grassroots leaders, obstacles that they face, or ways they maintain resiliency. In the spirit of Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States (2003), which describes everyday people; those without power and authority in U.S. history, this book will make visible a different set of activities that are largely invisible to many. By being brought to light, these activities can be recognized, explored, and fostered. Also, some may wonder why this activity is considered grassroots leadership and not just doing their job. But, as these examples demonstrate, the work that these individuals take up is above and beyond their normal positions. They have a personal commitment and passion to help create a change that is often not part of their normal activities, and, in the rare situation where activity was part of their duties, they fulfilled it in a way that went beyond a normal person’s sense of obligation or duty. It is important to note how grassroots leadership differs from two other related phenomena, social movements and faculty and staff activism. In Chapter Two, we define other key terms and concepts important to the study. In this introductory chapter, we focus on developing an understanding of grassroots leadership and related terms. Social movements are mass mobilization around an issue that has gained public attention. In contrast, grassroots leadership is local and community based, typically with little visibility. Social movements and grassroots leadership are highly related, but social movements tend to have largescale constituent groups and often have a central source of organization or power (Wittig, 1996). A social movement often originates out of ­grassroots leadership efforts, and grassroots efforts can turn into

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broader social movements. Therefore, they share many of the same concepts. Yet, in the literature, these are distinctive phenomena. Graduate student unionization is an example of an issue that has moved from grassroots organizing to a social movement that operates beyond local boundaries. Currently, graduate student unionization is being considered on several college campuses and is regularly covered in the higher education news. Several scholars have studied social movements in higher education like graduate student unionization—notably Rhoades and Rhoads (2005)—yet grassroots leadership has received much less attention, although it is a much more prevalent phenomenon. Faculty and staff activism heavily overlaps with grassroots leadership, and the terms are quite synonymous (Astin & Leland, 1991; Hart, 2007). Activism is typically differentiated from leadership in using noninstitutionalized practices and “outside channels” to make change, while leadership tends to use institutionalized and inside channels. The minor difference between activism and grassroots leadership, we offer, is that faculty and staff activists are often willing to lose their jobs and use more confrontational tactics; meanwhile, our study focuses on individuals who typically would not characterize themselves as activists (although a small number did use the term activists). Also, much of the activism that has occurred over the last twenty years has focused on faculty or staff rights and is captured more under the umbrella of faculty unionization (Rhoades, 1998). Unionization is a form of leadership and can work to alter institutional conditions and create change. However, our study looked more broadly at grassroots leadership than at unionization efforts. We do not see leadership and activism as necessarily distinctive and separate processes and follow the definition offered by Astin and Leland (1991). Their definition of leadership connects and makes the case for activism and grassroots efforts (typically not seen as leadership) to be conceptualized as leadership. In doing so, they attempt to legitimize grassroots efforts and activism and to question traditional notions of leadership tied to authority. However, this effort can also cause confusion as terms seen as antithetical is some circles—leadership and activism—are now seen as overlapping. We believe that excluding leadership efforts merely because they emerge outside formal authority and placing a different name on it—activism—can be marginalizing. In this book, we use activism and grassroots leadership interchangeably to demonstrate that we see these as similar terms, not as distinctive from one another. In fact, in our study, the distinction between activism and leadership was not as helpful for separating grassroots leadership and activism as faculty and staff used both inside and outside channels and institutionalized and noninstitutionalized practices. Yet the one minor



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distinction we did find is that faculty and staff were more tempered and felt the term activist fit better for an individual willing to risk his or her job for the change. This book fills this gap in understanding by presenting the results of a three-year case study involving interviews with hundreds of faculty and staff grassroots leaders across almost every sector of higher education. Using the methodology described in Chapter Three, the research team identified five typical campuses of varying type (liberal arts college, community college, research university, public regional college, and technical college) and followed different change initiatives ranging from diversity to innovative pedagogies (like active, problem-based, and service learning), environmentalism, staff equity, child care centers, wellness, student success, campus and community partnerships, anticapitalist movements, immigration status, and democratic governance initiatives. While this book focuses on postsecondary educational leadership, the study has implications for the general study of leadership and organizations. Certainly, we acknowledge that grassroots leadership is not new and that this type of activity has been taking place within organizations since they began. However, we are suggesting that this leadership goes undocumented, and, like Zinn (2003), we hope to make this leadership more visible. However, we do not want to seem ahistorical in highlighting this activity now as if it is new and has not been part of organizational life. w h y g r a ssroo t s l e a de r sh i p now? A variety of conditions make a study of faculty and staff grassroots leadership particularly timely. To begin, various scholars argue that campus management and operations have become increasingly influenced by business and corporate strategies in recent years (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Some refer to this trend as “new managerialism,” and others talk about the growing neoliberal philosophy on campuses and resultant academic capitalism (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Neoliberalism is the ideology that privatization (being run by corporations and business) of public operations that have traditionally been run by government, such as medicine or prisons, better serves the public interest (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Neoliberalism leads to new managerialism, where more corporate or business practices are adopted by nonprofit and governmental organizations and academic capitalism where campuses focus on revenue generation, marketing, branding, and other business practices. 5 The term academic capitalism is defined as “institutional and professorial market or market-like efforts to secure

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external moneys” (Slaughter & Leslie, 1997, p. 8). Thus, based on the more businesslike principles brought to higher education, personnel at the university are praised and rewarded for bringing in external money. Slaughter and Rhoades demonstrate how academic capitalism flourished in the 1980s and 1990s as government support for education declined, as corporate interest in new products and processes coincided with the university’s search for increased funding, and as the government sought to enhance national competitiveness by linking postsecondary education to business innovation. New managerialism and academic capitalism are happening across all institutions of higher education, although academic capitalism is intensified within the research university sector, specifically through capitalizing on research patents, grants, and new technologies. Other higher education sectors are engaging in academic capitalism albeit in different ways. Community colleges, for example, are raising external funds by creating training and programs for corporations (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). While the terms scholars use to describe the changes in higher education vary from academic capitalism to managerialism and neoliberalism, the patterns are the same and suggest that trustees, presidents, and other administrators are increasingly centralizing decisions (away from input from faculty and staff—part of shared governance) and more unilaterally managing higher education institutions as corporations. This pattern away from shared governance has been documented in national data and discussed in the book The American Faculty. Schuster and Finkelstein (2006) found that, in the last ten years, faculty report less involvement in campuswide governance and decision making, that the range of areas they have input on has declined (for example, little or no input on budget or strategy), and that they have less influence—in general—on campus. Faculty report the least satisfaction since data started being collected forty years ago (with input into decisions and influence). Faculty work appears to have changed in recent years; faculty have become excluded from campuswide governance structures such as committees and ad hoc task forces, and fewer decisions are being delegated to departments at most institutional types (Benjamin & Carroll, 1998; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). While administrators (and others) may still discuss the importance of shared governance, the trend data and research demonstrate that it has declined on campuses in recent years. Faculty find themselves with fewer avenues for having a substantive voice in campus decision making and a narrower range of topics (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006).6 What scholars document is not just a decline in formal authority structures like faculty senates but that the varied mechanisms of shared governance from committees, departments, and even individual autonomy to make decisions about one’s institution are being



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altered, diminishing their role in leadership (Rhoades, 1998; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). The trend away from faculty participation in governance is happening across all sectors of higher education but is more pronounced in less prestigious universities (Rhoades, 1998; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). Given the potential breakdown of shared governance suggested by these trend data (including faculty senates but also committees and departmental decision-making structures), we need to examine other forms of leadership and change occurring on campuses. In addition to a more managerial work environment, Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) argue that academic capitalism has also changed the nature of staff and faculty roles. To increase revenues, campuses are encouraging faculty and staff to seek grants, contracts, partnerships with industry, endowment funds, and spin-off companies (Slaughter & Leslie, 1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). For faculty, some research suggests that the focus on marketlike behaviors has resulted in an erosion of the focus on teaching and service work (Fairweather, 1996). Given that the nature of faculty and staff work is arguably fundamentally changing— particularly at research universities—it is important to examine the potential for employees to play a leadership role in other ways. Does academic capitalism hinder leadership due to its focus on external grants and revenue-seeking behavior, or can it be used to foster leadership? Faculty and staff who are successful in obtaining grants and outside funding have greater autonomy and managerial discretion. Could this be a source of leadership? Does this differ by institutional type? We hoped that our study could capture the ways that faculty and staff practice leadership within this new academic capitalist environment. Most studies have focused on leadership exclusively as part of shared governance processes; the shifting academic environment provides an opportunity to examine leadership among faculty and staff in a new way. Furthermore, several decades of research document the changing nature of the professoriate to a more contingent faculty (see O’Meara, LaPointe Terosky, & Neumann, 2008, for a review). Nationally, only one-third of the faculty are currently in tenure track appointments, and three out of four new appointments or hires are now contingent faculty. Rhoades (1998) documented that the move to contingent faculty has also lead to faculty becoming managed professionals. Previously, faculty contributed to decision making and had autonomy to make decisions about their work environment. Now Rhoades argues that faculty, as managed professionals, are not considered leaders on campus but are workers with professional expertise. The faculty are increasingly seeing polices and practices put in place that limit their flexibility and choices around work—increased number of courses, defined committee work, prohibitions against outside work or consulting, and much more strict

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role definition, for example (Rhoades, 1998). As Rhoades notes, “Administrators’ contractual discretion to manage faculty is extensive and has grown over recent years” (p. 257). Due to the diminishing autonomy, Rhoades argues that faculty also contribute less to shaping their work conditions and are increasingly less involved in campus governance, even admissions or curricular decisions. For example, on-line courses are often packaged courses, so that faculty must deliver a standardized curriculum. Non–tenure track faculty often have the major responsibility for delivering this new on-line curriculum with no input in the process. Moreover, the rapid budget cuts that occurred due to the national (and some may argue international) economic crisis of 2008 forced colleges around the country to start laying off staff and contingent faculty and enacting furloughs of tenure track faculty to reduce overall expenses. We will describe the decline in shared governance, rise of academic capitalism, and changing nature of the faculty in more detail in Chapter Six. All this research and data suggest that a shift has taken place where faculty are no often longer considered part of the formal leadership structure of many institutions. Are there other avenues for their input? We hoped that grassroots leadership might represent a counterforce to the diminishing autonomy that weakens shared governance and reduces faculty input. We also wanted to examine the leadership potential of contingent faculty. Often, because their contracts make contingents the least autonomous of the entire faculty, it is assumed that they cannot play a leadership role (and they are often actively excluded from departmental and campuswide decision making); they cannot voice their opinions openly. Yet, contingent faculty often have a wealth of experience outside academe. The contingent faculty vary tremendously in profile. Some have entered straight out of graduate school, but many enter after years of work in industry, corporations, nonprofits, and other professions, such as the arts. They often have a wealth of experience that could be a source of leadership on campuses. For example, contingent faculty may have more appropriate backgrounds (such as in community organizing, leading corporate boards, and managing large teams) for playing a role in campus leadership and governance. Rhoades (1998) suggests that campuses face a challenge that needs grassroots leadership: The challenge faculty now face is whether they manage to work in concert as a collectivity to more proactively redirect the academy and whether they can reorganize themselves with other production workers who are currently at the margins or the organization (staff), before faculty themselves are increasingly reorganized to the margins of the academic enterprise. (p. 279)

At this key moment posed by Rhoades, will there be leadership to fill this void?7 We believe that faculty and staff grassroots leadership



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could do so and is an example of what O’Meara and her coauthors (2008) call the “counternarrative” of individuals who have “agency to navigate institutional barriers and put effort, will, intent, and talent into their work” (p. 165). Faculty grassroots leadership illustrates the deep commitments of faculty and promotes a renewed sense of professionalism that emerges out of the changing nature of the professoriate. We agree with O’Meara and her colleagues that recent observations of the academic world construct faculty (and we would add staff) as having little or no agency and thus reinforce disempowerment. We hope that the stories we present provide agency and hope for faculty and staff who have found themselves increasingly without formal avenues for voice and leadership. We believe it is important that faculty and staff not give in to this new environment of being managed professionals with limited agency. We think that we are reaching a tipping point where we need to provide greater agency within the academic professions; otherwise talented individuals will seek other areas and leave the professoriate and professional academic careers. This is not to say, though, that some faculty, particularly tenured senior faculty, do not feel and have agency and voice on many campuses, but this is an increasingly small group. We do not mean to suggest that non–tenure track faculty cannot have voice or agency, but we acknowledge the potential constraints they face. con t r i bu t ions or be n e f i t s of fac u lt y a n d s ta f f l e a de r s on col l e g e c a m p use s Perhaps the most important question that we hope to address in this introductory chapter is why grassroots leadership efforts are important. Without an understanding of the contribution of grassroots leaders, it is unlikely that readers will feel compelled to read about their stories and experience and try to encourage more of this activity. In this section, we hope to demonstrate eight ways that faculty and staff grassroots leaders may fundamentally add to the campus community and its overall leadership efforts: providing balance to revenue and prestige seeking, acting as a conscience, creating needed changes, developing complementary leadership, building greater equity, improving relationships, advancing student learning, and modeling alternative forms of leadership. First, grassroots faculty and staff leaders might balance the corporate, revenue- or prestige-seeking model of top-down leadership present on many campuses. In the last twenty years, campuses have become increasingly corporate in their governance and management styles (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). College presidents, once intellectual leaders on campus, are now focused more exclusively on fund-raising,

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­ arketing and public relations, and government and external relationm ships (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Due to various increasing pressures, administrators tend to focus on the bottom line and may be less likely to help create dialogue around a quality teaching and learning environment. Instead, they are likely to focus on moving up in the rankings rather than on diversity, equity, or teaching innovations. Again, administrators are pressured by external forces and ideologies (like neoliberalism); we do not see them as necessarily embracing the revenue- and prestige-seeking model. As noted earlier, in the move toward a more corporate model of campus operations, shared governance—which once provided an opportunity for faculty and staff to participate in decision making and leadership—has increasingly been deemphasized on many campuses. This trend again suggests the limitation of shared leadership approaches and the need for alternative views for creating campus change. While some administrators are happy with this direction (the move away from shared governance) and like the expediency it provides, other leaders are concerned and have felt pressured by boards and trustees to centralize decision making and move away from shared governance. For these leaders, supporting faculty and staff grassroots leadership is a way to reinvigorate a sense of bottom-up input on campuses where shared governance has been diminished or no longer exists. While some boards and trustees no longer feel obligated to include faculty in decision making, presidents and other administrative leaders can balance the corporate and revenue model present on many campuses by fostering and supporting grassroots leadership. Chapter Twelve in this book will focus specifically on ways leaders in positions of power can support grassroots leadership efforts. Second, grassroots leaders on campus may act as the conscience for the organization—often bringing up ethical issues. Many of the change initiatives championed by faculty and staff relate to underlying ethical dilemmas found broadly in society and campus life; for example, faculty and staff working to create rights and opportunities for campus custodial staff who receive inequitable treatment. In our society and within its institutions, we continue to wrestle with how to properly treat certain groups and provide them a living wage and basic privileges of employment. Grassroots leaders often champion particular ethical issues in society such as climate change, immigration rights, health care reform, and access to college. Most importantly, these grassroots leaders help to create dialogues so that people became more aware of ethical issues. Through the dialogues and conversation, grassroots leaders create an ethical voice and presence on campus. Increasingly, top-down leaders who once took a position on moral and ethical issues are not taking a



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stand or giving voice to these issues on campus. One reason is that leaders may be skittish of jeopardizing important relationships with outside stakeholders who may be important to the institution’s well-being, such as key policy makers or donors. As a result, many administrators in positions of power are hesitant to go on record with any moral or ethical position, or they may not have the time given the crush of demands. Furthermore, board members and trustees may come from an opposing point of view on an ethical position. Conflicts with those who have higher levels of authority (boards and trustees) and their direct reports may arise if leaders make their views public, such as on the value of affirmative action. This conflict is another reason that top-down leaders might support grassroots faculty and staff leaders. Grassroots leaders can articulate a moral and ethical stance that once characterized college campuses. Third, grassroots leaders create important and needed changes, as noted in the opening vignette, which focused on the biology professor working to help students succeed. Campuses need to demonstrate that they are responsive to external mandates of policy makers for change. Many of the efforts of faculty and staff grassroots leaders respond to changes proposed by policy makers: developing greener and more sustainable campuses, becoming more student centered, using alternative pedagogies, and creating greater access to and success on college campuses for historically underrepresented groups. Therefore, it is important to highlight these important changes, which often go unrecognized because they are not part of campus strategic plans. Also, because the administration was not a part of these changes and the changes are not part of campus public relations, there is little notice or support for these efforts. An unfortunate mind-set exists where people praise administrators for their individual efforts but not for the leadership they create or foster in others on campus. The focus on individual efforts can create a more competitive or adversarial environment, which prevents the fostering of others’ work. Also, formal leaders may not promote and make public important changes for which they are unable to take credit. Various external stakeholders would appreciate many of the grassroots changes, but grassroots efforts are largely unknown beyond campuses. We are not suggesting that administrators are egotistical and unwilling to share the praise. Instead, there is a system in place that is supported by trustees, legislators, and others; that system promotes the idea that heroic authority figures should be the ones to make change. If trustees and others could be encouraged to see leadership more collectively, this would allow senior leaders to act differently, acknowledging and supporting grassroots leaders on campus.

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Fourth, and related to the first two points, grassroots leaders are developing changes that are unlikely to happen from the top down because of constraints on administrators. Various scholars suggest that administrators tend to focus on revenue generation, accountability, and prestige seeking as demanded by trustees and often in response to presidential mandates (Brewer, Gates, & Goldman, 2002; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). This focus may seem contradictory as policy makers want access and diversity, for example, as priorities. But, as state funding has declined, institutional leaders have often had to put aside calls for diversity to focus on budget issues. Administrators are caught between the public policy objectives of affordability, access, and quality with those of the marketplace that focus on resource acquisition and market position. As a result, the types of changes that campus leaders embrace often focus on a narrow set of issues related to revenue generation and prestige seeking. Certainly these are important areas where leadership efforts need to take place, but grassroots faculty and staff leaders can supplement these leadership activities with changes that may not be on the top agenda of trustees and board members. If leaders in positions of power conceptualize grassroots leaders as partners, they can work on different, but complementary, leadership efforts that can enhance the overall institution. Similarly, grassroots leaders are often not supportive of leaders at the top. Grassroots leaders may not recognize the pressures that administrators experience to fund raise, assess campus activities, and prove the quality of education to external groups. While it is important that grassroots leaders critique some efforts that sometimes move institutions in directions that are not mission centered or do not build on campus strengths, grassroots leaders may disregard the pressures on top-down leaders and not see the many important changes made by administrators. Together, these groups can create a combined agenda and advance the overall institution. Fifth, grassroots leaders typically work to create greater equity for various communities on campus. The corporate and revenue-generating model of campus operations places emphasis on institutional goals and interests over individual members of the community. While this point is quite similar to bringing up ethical issues, we make this a distinctive point as many policy makers are particularly concerned about issues of equity and do not always equate equity with ethical or moral issues. There have always been inequalities on college campuses, but shared governance and unions often provide a vehicle for addressing some of these inequalities. Unions still play a pivotal role in the increasingly corporate and revenue-generating environment of college campuses. However, on campuses that are not unionized, grassroots leadership can help play a role by highlighting inequalities and helping to create needed



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changes. On the campuses we examined, tenure track faculty worked to create greater rights for contingent and part-time faculty. Staff, faculty, and students worked to create rights for custodial and secretarial staff. Faculty and staff worked to identify inequities for various student groups on campus. And faculty and staff from diverse backgrounds helped to create greater equality for individuals from underrepresented minority groups, women, gay and lesbian populations, and low-income individuals. In general, there was strong support for civil and human rights among the grassroots leaders and their change efforts. Sixth, grassroots leaders may improve the relationships of individuals within the campus and local community. This contribution is heavily tied to some of the earlier advances made by grassroots leaders: creating greater equity, countering the corporate model, and acting as a conscience for the campus, for example. When faculty, staff, students, and administrators believe that rampant inequities exist, that the institution they participate in does not respect their input or involvement, and that decisions are made without examining the ethical implications, the fabric of the community unravels. Relationships among individuals and groups become strained—not an ideal environment for creating a quality teaching and learning environment. Studies consistently demonstrate that organizations become increasingly dysfunctional when trust and relationships are lacking (Tierney, 2006). We need grassroots faculty and staff leaders to counterbalance existing trends that work against building positive and functional communities. Community extends to external groups that have a stake in the values, missions, and practices of the college. Research universities are often challenged to consider local communities, as many of their students come from out of state or even out of the country. Connecting to the community, however, is particularly important for rural comprehensive colleges and community colleges that are founded on the notion of engaging in and serving the local communities. Grassroots efforts often engage the local community and provide a connection between local and college needs. Seventh, faculty and staff grassroots leaders typically advance issues that are favorable to students and learning. Many of the changes that grassroots leaders advocate for could be considered student-centered change initiatives. Faculty and staff were deeply involved in thinking about ways to make the experience of students more positive. Faculty considered alternative pedagogies such as service and collaborative, cooperative, active, and problem-based learning. They developed support services, such as remediation or tutoring. Faculty grassroots leaders reenvisioned the curriculum through first-year experience seminars, retooling individual classes and rethinking general education curriculum. Staff and faculty worked together to revise cocurricular ­experiences such

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as leadership symposia or dialogues about environmentalism. Not only did students benefit from an improved teaching and learning environment, but the grassroots activities on campus also modeled this form of leadership for students. Students noted that seeing grassroots leadership modeled by faculty and staff was a mentoring experience and helped them to see how they themselves could be leaders from the bottom up. Lastly, faculty and staff grassroots leadership provided a more general model of leadership for others on campus, creating greater ­leadership capacity among the community. Given all the challenges that higher education faces, having more faculty and staff who have the skills and abilities to be leaders and to play leadership roles on campus is ­beneficial to the overall campus. These grassroots leaders serve as role models to graduate students, fellow faculty and staff, and student leaders. Our study found that leadership capacity from the bottom up is generally quite low at most institutions. Faculty are not socialized through graduate school or in their current careers to be leaders. In fact, most of their socialization is contrary to developing leadership skills (Birnbaum, 1992; Wergin, 2007). In graduate school, students work independently, often in isolation in a library or lab. After years of training and working independently, faculty find themselves challenged to engage in the type of activities that are required to be grassroots leaders, such as creating a vision, developing a network or coalition, and planning and organizing multiple groups of people. Staff are a more mixed story, with many low-level and mid-level professionals receiving little acknowledgment, mentoring, or guidance about leadership. There is a subset of staff members who do receive some skill building and training around leadership. Student and academic affairs professionals may obtain leadership development through a national or regional leadership institute (that is, the Higher Education Resources Center, National Association for Student Personnel Administrators, or the American College Personnel Association). However, they typically receive training only if they aspire to move into administration or to high-level positions. Generally, campuses suffer from having minimal capacity for leadership as their employees do not conceive of themselves as leaders, are not socialized to have leadership skills or competencies, and have little experience acting as leaders. The more institutions hold up faculty and staff grassroots leaders as models for others or to inspire others to act, the more likely that institutions can create greater leadership capacity for faculty and staff. We would be remiss if we did not note that not all grassroots leadership is functional, change oriented, ethical, equity conscious, oriented toward teaching and learning, or an example of leadership that students should follow. Certainly there are examples of grassroots leadership ef-



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forts that are self-centered rather than aimed at improvement for the institution or its members or that operate for nefarious purposes. We are not suggesting that all grassroots leadership efforts are alike and should be celebrated. Just as those in positions of authority can have a dark side (see for example, McIntosh & Rima, 2007), grassroots leaders can fall victim to the same challenges and dysfunctions. how is t h is r e l at e d to sh a r e d l e a de r sh i p a n d sh a r e d g ov e r n a nc e? Many readers may be wondering how grassroots leadership relates to shared leadership and shared governance. Therefore, it is important to address the similarities and differences between grassroots leadership and shared leadership because, as noted earlier, shared leadership has emerged as the major “new” perspective for understanding leadership within organizations. The most common framework provided for examining broader participation in leadership within organizations is shared leadership (Pearce & Conger, 2003). Shared leadership became prominent in the leadership literature in the 1980s when studies of corporations demonstrated that hierarchical models of leadership led to many problems, including lack of buy-in for change, blocked problem solving, the stifling of creativity and innovation, and led to general ineffectiveness (Kezar et al., 2006a). Instead, researchers studying companies (such as those in Japan) that competed with U.S. businesses found that the foreign companies distributed leadership more, delegating authority to those who are closer to consumers and stakeholders. This finding created debate and research throughout the following twenty years about the benefits of and need for more shared forms of leadership. Studies about the best way to create leadership teams and to distribute leadership more broadly throughout the organization, rather than maintaining leadership only within positions of authority, have been the focus of the leadership literature, particularly corporate and public policy (Kezar et al., 2006a). In higher education, this resulted in publications such as Bensimon and Neumann’s Redesigning Collegiate Leadership: Teams and Teamwork and Higher Education (1993), which examines the way that presidents can more effectively use cabinets as teams to lead and create change. Shared leadership has been an undercurrent in the leadership literature over the centuries. For example, the servant leadership model has been popular from time to time. Various researchers from different fields have argued about the benefits of shared or distributed leadership but not until recently has academia embraced it broadly (Bass, 2009; Kezar et al., 2006a; Stogdill, 1974).

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Our research is connected to shared leadership in that we maintain that broad participation of people throughout an organization can improve organizational functioning and lead to greater equity. Our perspective resonates with the shared leadership model in terms of its emphasis on a collective leadership process and emphasis on groups and team mechanisms. Furthermore, like shared leadership, we assume that the process of leadership will be distinctive, as it includes more individuals, and that unique strategies, professional development, barriers, and principles for effectiveness will be necessary within this new form of leadership. While we share many of the assumptions of shared leadership, the study is distinctive from earlier efforts to understand and document shared leadership. First, almost all shared leadership studies emphasize the way that those without positions of authority can be included in a leadership process, as defined by those in positions of authority (Seymour, 1996; Spillane, Halverson & Diamond, 2003). Instead, we were interested in understanding and examining leadership efforts that emerged from the bottom up. While these efforts might converge with top-down efforts of leadership, we were interested in the ways that leadership can emerge from the bottom up, not just by encouragement to participate by top-down leaders. This distinction is important to us because shared and distributed forms of leadership tend to maintain traditional power relationships where agency is limited to those in positions of authority. Top-down leaders define the change agenda and direction; others are brought into the leadership process only to implement those changes. Therefore, the sharing of leadership is typically limited, and those without delegated authority are not given power, decision-­making authority, or resources. Total quality management is an example of the shared leadership model; people have critiqued it for distributing responsibility without really distributing power or agency (Kezar et al., 2006a). Second, shared leadership models stem from the perspective of and typically reinforce the interests of management. Many of the changes that we studied would not have emerged from campus administrators, and some managers may not see the changes made by faculty and staff as supporting their interests. For example, contingent faculty or staff rights would likely not have been a change effort among administrators. Some changes could be considered shared interests, such as improving the teaching and learning environment for the campus, but even a diversity initiative tends to be viewed differently by administrators and faculty. Administrators often use diversity to sell or promote programs, while faculty want to discuss diversity to examine power relationships



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and oppression in society. It is important to note that we are documenting changes that may not always be in the interests of the administration and/or management. Third, shared leadership is typically connected to and part of traditional institutional processes. Team models focus on president’s cabinets, which are more collective and require new skills such as facilitation, team building, and conflict resolution. However, these leaders are still in positions of authority and can use many traditional processes of top-down leaders, such as mandating change and controlling resources and rewards. As a result, shared leadership can rely on many of the strategies and approaches from the traditional leadership literature. Our study of grassroots leaders suggests that a more radical shifting of leadership dynamics is necessary within grassroots efforts. As described in the grassroots leadership literature and tempered radicals framework (reviewed in Chapter Two),8 the leaders and leadership processes that we follow are often outside of campus processes. Therefore, they rely on coalitions, external support groups, external data, and the community pressure to create change. Fourth, shared leadership models assume a connection between topdown and bottom-up leadership. While grassroots leadership does not preclude such a connection, it does not view it as inherent or prevalent. Our own study assumed that grassroots efforts may be independent of top-down efforts and that convergence is limited. While other smaller changes exist, these are some of the fundamental ways that our study both builds and diverts from shared leadership. Some may suggest that shared leadership, by definition, cannot authentically use this term unless the process is truly consensual among those in positions of authority and those without (Astin & Leland, 1991). The interests served need to be shared, and authority needs to be truly delegated to those in other levels within the institution. Feminist scholars, in particular, have argued for authentic forms of shared leadership that redistribute power within organizations and empower individuals throughout (Astin & Leland, 1991). We could not agree more. Ideally, shared leadership could be beneficial for many organizations. However, much of the literature on shared leadership (see Pearce & Conger, 2003, for a summary) and much of the actualization of shared leadership models within organizations are tied to authority and traditional notions of leadership, and we are differentiating ourselves from this literature. In focusing on grassroots leadership and distinguishing ourselves from shared leadership, we do not mean to set up an oppositional stance to other leadership approaches. While the traditional literature on grassroots activism is often oppositional, our connection and allegiance with

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tempered radicals (described in Chapter Two) and more institutionalized approaches to grassroots activism belie our interest in a collaborative and cooperative approach. We are hopeful that administrators, and others in positions of authority, can begin to expand their views of shared leadership and see grassroots leaders as partners, rather than as opponents. We also hope that grassroots leaders can begin to see more common interests with those in positions of authority. A trend that we will describe in our data is that many grassroots leaders perceive administrators as the enemy. Higher education has a unique tradition—shared governance—creating a vehicle for faculty and staff to participate in decision making and in which they can play a shared leadership role. Shared governance refers to decision making in which responsibility is shared by faculty, administrators, and trustees (AAUP, 1966). No particular mechanism epitomizes shared governance, and various structures exist ranging from faculty senates (that interact with boards and presidents); collective assemblies of faculty, staff, and administrators; committee structures; and trustees and presidents delegating decisions down to departments. A statement was created jointly by the American Association of University Professors, the American Council on Education (ACE), and the Association of Governing Boards of Universities and Colleges (AGB) in 1966 that emphasizes the importance of faculty involvement in a broad range of institutional decisions such as personnel decisions, selection of administrators, preparation of the budget, and determination of educational policies. The statement also suggests that faculty should have primary responsibility for such fundamental areas as curriculum, subject matter and methods of instruction, research, faculty status, and those aspects of student life that relate to the educational process. The document suggests a principle for working collectively and does not mandate any specific way of structuring such work. Shared governance has been a widely accepted principle and approach to decision making for the last forty years, but there is evidence to suggest that it does not always allow for faculty voice or operate as intended in terms of garnering faculty input into decision making (Birnbaum, 1989). Most conceptualizations of faculty leadership have focused on their participation in shared governance as the way faculty have worked to create change. In addition, shared governance is a collective process built on consensus—much like other grassroots leadership efforts. Yet, as the trend data show, shared governance has declined on many campuses; faculty do not have input into a range of institutional issues, as suggested by the joint statement of 1966; they have less responsibility for the areas where they used to have primary responsibility; and



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they largely feel that they do not have influence or are part of a shared or consensus-­based process (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). Also, as Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) argue, administrators tend to define the agenda for shared governance, the results of shared governance typically support administrative efforts and interests, and faculty interests are increasingly inconspicuous. As Slaughter and Rhoades suggest, a corporate model of decision making emphasizes hierarchy over collegiality. Also, it should be noted that many college campuses have no form of shared governance; shared governance is a relatively new concept that emerged in the beginning of the last century and was not formally adopted until the statement of 1966. Because of a lack of genuine input into decision making and leadership, thousands of campuses have unionized in the last forty years (particularly community colleges) because shared governance was not authentic or even in existence on some campuses. While some unionized campuses still attempt to have a senate and work toward shared governance through committees and other structures, unions often experience situations where governance does not adhere to the 1966 statement and contracts. Yet, although there are instances when shared governance operates in authentic ways and combines the voices of faculty, staff, trustees, and administration, evidence shows that this system has never been the norm across many higher education institutions and is increasingly being moved away from as an ideal and practice. m a i n a rgu m e n t s a n d con t r i bu t ions We offer four main arguments in this book. First, grassroots leadership within institutional settings is different from grassroots leadership in the community, and the literature and scholarship from community organizing cannot be directly applied to educational leaders (or employees in other organizational settings) who are interested in working within their institutional settings to create change. Throughout the book, we demonstrate how grassroots leaders within institutionalized educational settings have created unique strategies, tactics, and approaches to navigate power and experience unique obstacles and conditions. Furthermore, within institutionalized settings, grassroots leaders take a tempered approach, which is extremely important to manage the risks and costs of grassroots leadership and for effecting change. Meyerson (2003) also advances this argument in her studies of corporate grassroots leaders. We will describe more about the Meyerson study and how it shaped and framed our investigation of grassroots leaders on college campuses

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in Chapter Two. We came to a conclusion similar to Meyerson’s: that tempered, incremental, and evolutionary change is likely more successful than radical approaches in institutionalized settings. We also add important data on organizational obstacles, for example, to Meyerson’s framework of grassroots leadership within organizational settings. Second, grassroots leaders within postsecondary institutions adopt a slightly different approach from grassroots leaders in other institutional settings. For example, the tactics of faculty and staff grassroots leaders, such as working with students or capitalizing and leveraging the curriculum, are not tactics that can be used in a hospital or corporation. Similarly, obstacles faced within educational settings are noteworthy in their uniqueness. For example, faculty often reflected a “classroom mentality” when trying to create change where they lecture about change rather than implement it. Thus, change efforts never get off the ground and are perpetually in discussion. We argue that there is a uniquely educational underpinning to the grassroots leadership efforts of faculty and staff on college campuses. Grassroots leaders on campus will be more successful if they alter their strategies to match the institutionalized environments and the educational setting. We suspect that other settings such as hospitals and small nonprofits might have unique features that people should be aware of and study as well. Third, this book argues that grassroots leaders in institutional settings can face significant power conditions, particularly those with limited status. While we like to believe that organizations are civil and humane, the stories in this book demonstrate a dark side to organizations that we often ignore. The other major study of grassroots leaders in institutional settings, Meyerson’s (2003) tempered radicals, does not address the power and oppression that can emerge as grassroots leaders challenge the status quo. This book directly addresses issues of power. First, we examine the ways various sources of institutionalized power work to stop grassroots leaders’ efforts. Second, we examine the issues of bullying and peer-to-peer power dynamics. Lastly, we examine the use of power among grassroots leaders and how a very confrontational and aggressive posture by grassroots leaders often undoes their own work. This is the first study to examine power in these multiple and complex ways and especially how it affects the grassroots leadership process. Another unique contribution of this book is that it examines the convergence of top-down and bottom-up leadership, but from the perspective and direction of the bottom-up leaders. We argue that shared or distributed models of leadership focus on convergence, where top-down leaders ask followers to participate in leadership efforts with them. The



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agenda and change direction are often defined by those in leadership and can lead to disempowering the bottom up (Spillane & Diamond, 2007). In some instances, followers can have input into the direction, and the processes are bidirectional. No research has examined the convergence of leadership that emerges from the bottom up with top-down leaders within institutional settings. This book offers several new concepts and insights about grassroots leadership that have broad implications for researchers across a host of disciplines, not just education. org a n i z at ion of t h e book The book is divided into three main sections: Part I—Background and Context (Chapters 1–3); Part II—Individual and Group Grassroots ­Phenomena (Chapters 4–9); and Part III—Organizational Grassroots Phenomena, Implications, and Conclusion (Chapters 10–13). Part I intro­duces important background information that helps the reader understand and conceptualize the data presented in later chapters. Chapter Two provides an overview of the literature on the tempered radicals framework that was the main literature used to conceptualize the study. This framework documents existing advice for campus leaders that we enhanced through our own work. Chapter Two also introduces the framework and organization for the book—individual, group, and organizational concepts that shape grassroots leaders. Chapter Three describes the methodology for the study, presents major assumptions, and introduces the five case study campuses. Part II covers the individual issues (that is, motivation and resiliency) and group issues (that is, power dynamics and team dynamics) that have an impact on grassroots leaders. Chapter Four provides narratives from six of the grassroots leaders, introducing the reader to the backgrounds, biographies, and stories of some of the people we studied. In particular, we focus on grassroots leaders’ motivations and identities. By documenting the stories of faculty and staff grassroots leaders, we provide inspiration and hope for individuals who care about making changes but often feel disempowered by the current leadership literature, which does not mention or suggest that these types of individuals can be leaders on their campuses. By highlighting the many different paths that faculty and staff take to leadership, leaders from diverse backgrounds and with different experiences will be able to see their potential. Part II also highlights a set of group concepts critical to understanding grassroots leadership: strategy, obstacles, navigating power, and leadership style. Chapter Five reviews the experience of grassroots

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l­eaders and provides specific advice for them related to successful tactics and strategies that can help to enhance the leadership of other faculty and staff. Chapter Six explains common obstacles faculty and staff face. By carefully delineating the obstacles, faculty and staff bottom-up leaders can better navigate these challenges. In particular, we highlight the ways that grassroots leaders on campus have to navigate power conditions in Chapter Seven. We also devote Chapter Eight to understanding grassroots leaders’ views of power and how this shapes their leadership style. In Chapter Nine, we finalize the review of individual concepts important to grassroots leadership, focusing on resiliency. For example, we document approaches that grassroots leaders used to stay resilient over the course of grassroots change, which is usually long term. We hope to help people maintain their energy and commitment to this important work. We explain some of the sacrifices that grassroots leaders have made. In doing so, we honor the work they have done and assist people to better understand the responsibility and risks that they are undertaking. Part III examines organizational phenomena that emerged while focusing on grassroots leaders, such as convergence, institutional structures and culture, and leadership development. For example, we look at the ways bottom-up and top-down leadership can work in concert and the advantages and challenges of such complementary leadership efforts in Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven looks at how the new climate of academic capitalism shapes grassroots leadership and how faculty and staff have adapted their behavior to be successful within this new reward structure and organizational values and norms. In Chapter Twelve, we describe ways that administrators (and other faculty and staff) can support bottom-up leadership and can help foster more of this important work. This book sets out recommendations for creating more conducive campus environments for institutional agents that are convinced by our arguments about the significance of grassroots leadership. Lastly, with Chapter Thirteen, the book ends by connecting the various chapters through offering a set of recommendations for different audiences, examining the theoretical implications, and presenting a future research agenda.

chapter two

Framing the Study Tempered Radicals Framework

; We sought out literature about grassroots efforts that happen within formal organizations because we were convinced that grassroots literature outside organizational settings would be valuable but limited. We identified the tempered radicals framework that we used to more sharply frame our study focus (Meyerson, 2003). As will be described in the following pages, tempered radicals are individuals who desire to create positive change and who challenge the status quo within organizations but lack formal authority. They have to temper their strategies to stay employed within organizations and to reduce resistance. The tempered radicals framework moves from more individualized strategies to more collective strategies, and it conceptualizes grassroots work as often beginning among single individuals. Also, Meyerson’s tempered radicals framework focuses on everyday people and how they make a difference, rather than on individual leaders as charismatic heroes. Meyerson’s study draws on social movement and grassroots leadership literature, which we also believed would be helpful for framing the study. The tempered radicals framework, while closely aligned with our study purposes, does not incorporate the breadth of ideas from social movement theory, including leadership development, motivation, or intergroup relationships. We also review concepts from grassroots leadership literature in the Appendix. Grassroots leadership is a line of inquiry within the scholarship of social movements that focuses on more local leadership efforts (Bernal, 1998; Bettencourt, 1996; Bettencourt, Dillman, & Wollman, 1996; Kroeker, 1996; Wilson, 1973; Wittig, 1996). This literature introduces a rich set of strategies and tactics to advance change from the bottom up. It helps familiarize the researchers with key challenges such

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as power, apathy, acquiescence, resiliency, and maintaining consensus within the collective. While these were important ideas that we used as we analyzed the data, not all readers will be interested in the breadth of literature, but for those who want additional references and review of concepts, we recommend reading this appendix. Also, the grassroots leadership literature has many limitations that make it less directly applicable—it focuses on leaders outside institutional settings and on collectives rather than individuals.1 Thus, the tempered radicals framework more sharply framed our study, looking at everyday faculty and staff working both individually and in collectives within institutional settings. Furthermore, the tempered radicals framework draws heavily from the research on grassroots leadership. Generally, when we describe faculty and staff leaders in this book, we will use the term grassroots rather than tempered radicals because grassroots is more familiar, and Meyerson (2008) herself has moved to using the term grassroots in more recent years. We hope that readers understand that faculty and staff share the quality of tempered radicals in that they want to maintain their position within the institution, are institutionally bound, and are not outside radicals or activists—which is often the case with grassroots leaders in community. 2 t e m p e r e d r a dic a l s f r a m e wor k The research was framed most sharply by Meyerson’s tempered radicals framework (Meyerson, 2003). Tempered radicals are individuals who wish to create change in their organizations, but because they are employees, not outsiders, they temper their strategies to create change. Meyerson explains the tempered radicals as “individuals who identify with and are committed to their organizations, and are also committed to a cause, community, or ideology that is fundamentally different from, and possibly at odds with the dominant culture of their organization” (Meyerson & Scully, 1995, p. 186). We felt this framework was particularly important because faculty and staff practice leadership and change within the institution and typically desire to maintain their positions; typically they are not open activists willing to lose their jobs. The tempered radical’s framework builds on social movement theory and grassroots leadership, examining this concept within institutional settings (similar to our goal of examining bottom-up leadership within colleges and universities). Meyerson’s study (2003) was conducted in the corporate setting, and we believed there may be some differences in academic settings. For example, colleges often have less bureaucratic struc-



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tures, faculty as professionals play a different role than many employees in companies, and the learning goal is quite different from a goal of improving shareholder earnings. Meyerson’s research resulted in a range of tactics, obstacles, and resiliency approaches that we used to examine these concepts on campuses. The scholarship of tempered radicals represents an important and much-needed departure from the dominant focus of top-down leadership within institutional settings. As Meyerson (2003) argues: Tempered radicals reflect important aspects of leadership that are absent in the more traditional portraits. It is leadership that tends to be less visible, less coordinated, and less vested with formal authority; it is also more local, more diffuse, more opportunistic, and more humble than the activity attributed to the modern-day hero. (p. 171)

The concept of tempered radicals adds an important dimension to the grassroots literature by examining individuals who are committed to staying and working within their organizations—similar to many faculty and staff on college campuses. Also, grassroots literature focuses on collective action, and the term tempered radicals emphasizes the continuum from individual to collective. Up to this point, however, the tempered radical framework has been examined almost exclusively within the context of for-profit corporations (Meyerson, 2003; Meyerson & Scully, 1995; Scully & Segal, 2002). We examine the experiences and insights of faculty and staff who are not in positions of authority within the hierarchical system of university administration but have felt compelled to challenge dominant values, beliefs, and practices on campus. In the corporate settings observed by Meyerson (2003), tempered radicals use moderate, incremental actions to challenge the status quo. By choosing among a range of strategies for fostering change that differ on dimensions of intent (such as exhibiting personal congruence versus bringing about broader organizational change) and scope of impact (that is, influencing a small number of individuals versus swaying the opinions and attitudes of many organizational members), tempered radicals are able to construct a personalized and contextualized change framework that matches their unique identities and goals. Meyerson (2003), for example, observed that tempered radicals engage in a combination of five distinct change approaches, based on their comfort and understanding of barriers: (1) resisting quietly to pursue personal congruence (for example, taking time off work to observe important religious holidays not officially recognized by the organization or decorating one’s desk or office to exhibit support for a particular social issue); (2) turning personal threats into opportunities by confronting discriminatory

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Resisting quietly and staying true to one’s self

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Turning personal threats into opportunities

Broadening the impact through negotiation

Leveraging small wins

Organizing collective action

Figure 2.1.  Tempered radicals approaches. Note: Adapted from Meyerson (2003).

statements, assumptions, and organizational practices; (3) engaging in negotiations to identify alternative solutions to interpersonal and organizational conflicts; (4) leveraging small victories to achieve larger organizational results; and (5) organizing collective action around a critical issue or organizational controversy (for example, starting an employee forum to address the issue of employer-provided child care). Figure 2.1 summarizes the tempered radicals framework. The approaches fall on a continuum from resisting quietly, which is most tempered, to organizing collective action, which is the least tempered. Related to the grassroots literature, Meyerson (2003) is presenting a new style or approach. Tempered radicals are neither confrontational, campaigners, nor consensus oriented as described in the grassroots ­literature—instead they may use some combination of the styles but in more moderate ways. Because they lack formal authority, tempered radicals rely on the cumulative effect of incremental and often subtle actions to foster change. We will provide more detail about the five approaches, which compose the tempered radicals framework. It is important to note that this is not a stage model where people move across from resisting quietly to collective action. These are a series of choices made by tempered radicals as they approach each situation, and they may start with negotiation or collective action. Resisting Quietly to Pursue Personal Congruence The first approach is resisting quietly and staying true to oneself. Meyerson (2003) provides a variety of examples of individuals who create change through expressing their personal values in small ways. John, for example has a cartoon in his cubicle wall of a child trying to adopt his nanny as his parent because his own parents are working all the



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time. Meyerson notes that this cartoon is a way for John to voice his concerns about the importance of work–family balance to others in the workplace. Meyerson identified three key ways that people resist quietly and stay true to themselves: psychological resistance that manifests itself primarily in thoughts, self-expressions that display an aspect of one’s different self, and behind-the-scenes actions that are deliberate acts that resist the status quo but are so quiet as not to stir concern. To demonstrate psychological resistance, Meyerson describes the story of Martína, who has been pressured all her life to assimilate into American culture and who has resisted this assimilation and appreciates her Mexican working-class background. Instead of acting like other people in the workplace, she acts in ways that are culturally congruent, which might mean emphasizing relationships over task. Meyerson also notes other strategies within this arena of psychological resistance. For example, building relationships with people inside and outside the organization who share and appreciate aspects of their identity or values, developing discipline to manage heated emotions when people challenge her values, and separating the public reactions and private actions and feelings to create an appearance of conformity, while acting on differences to sustain a sense of self. The second strategy—self-expressions as resistance—was already alluded to through the example of John and his cartoon. Meyerson notes that these expressions can vary from dress to office décor, language, interaction approach, time-related behaviors, leadership style, and the like. They can be simple and spontaneous, or they can be much more calculated acts of resistance such as marching in a gay rights parade with the company’s banner. Small self-expressions can alter existing norms and disrupt the status quo. The third example is behind-the-scenes resistance. These individuals present an image of loyalty to the organizational norms but “find ways outside a public view to act on their values and identities” (p. 51). Meyerson presents the example of Peter, who chooses to not confront and challenge others publicly. Instead, Peter and others decide to become involved with activities outside the organization that promote issues they are concerned about. Peter also looks for opportunities to help others within the organization who have similar concerns. He mentors co-workers who are concerned about creating more opportunities for minorities within the organization and help them extend their efforts. Lastly, he helps to channel information, opportunities, and resources. Peter is well known by those in an underground part of the organization who are interested in furthering ethnic and racial minorities. He serves as a networker or conduit: connecting other people, making sure that information gets to the right people who need to act and, when possible, channeling resources to people who can

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further the goals of increasing the number of ethnic and racial minorities in the company and making them more successful. Turning Personal Threats into Opportunities Many tempered radicals become targets for attacks, even if these individuals are operating behind the scenes. Sometimes, they become a target just because of their identity as a woman or a minority (or a person who is part of an underrepresented group). People who belong to a dominant group or hold a dominant set of values often demean others to reinforce their own value system. When a person who is a target of a personal attack remains silent, his or her silence can reinforce existing patterns of power and exclusion. For example, someone who challenges a person who makes a racist joke disrupts existing power conditions and invites inclusion. However, being silent leaves the perpetrator unchallenged, and the racism and exclusion likely remain a part of the institutional culture. Meyerson finds that many people need to be silent because they feel the stakes are too high if they speak out. However, if they choose to see this personal threat as an opportunity to educate others, they may work toward creating change. As Meyerson notes: “It is precisely in these moments when we witness or are engaged in threatening interactions that we may face an opportunity to break negative cycles of inaction and consciously pursue constructive alternatives” (2003, p. 59). The key to successfully turning a personal threat into an opportunity is to recognize its potential for learning among those of the other party. Meyerson describes some of the strategies to move toward learning, such as depersonalizing the encounter by trying to stand outside the experience, thus creating emotional distance. Responding to threats in productive ways is important, as individuals are able to correct assumptions that may be inaccurate and hurtful. But if people become overly emotional and angry toward the other person, then that other person will shut down and become defensive, and no learning will occur. Productive ways to react include relating the issue to broader patterns or trends and using humor to deflect tensions, among other strategies. Another important aspect is seeing silence as a choice and being able to identify when it is a good time to push back and when it is better to be silent. Broadening the Impact through Negotiation Meyerson (2003) believes that broadening learning will require recruiting more people into the process and organizing more collective re­



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examination of assumptions. She believes that reevaluation can happen when people can step back and gain perspective and engage in a negotiation process. The first two strategies, resisting quietly and turning personal threats into opportunities, mostly operate on an individual level, and the learning that occurs is localized, while negotiation is more of a collective act. To demonstrate the way negotiation works, Myerson describes the story of Joni Mason, who develops trade relationships with economically disadvantaged communities. Although Joni recommends offering raw materials from training partners in her work proposals, the research and development scientists in her company make decisions contrary to her recommendations. Also, the purchasing groups avoided buying supplies from economically disadvantaged communities. Rather than accept these decisions, she set up meetings with the two groups to further understand their concerns and to provide rationale for her position. She identified people who had strong working relationships with individuals in the research and development and purchasing offices to obtain feedback. These individuals were indeed able to share information with her about why they contradicted decisions she put forward. As Meyerson notes: After learning about the concerns from others, Joni realized that the resistance was not directed to her personally or even at her do-gooder agenda. The manager’s resistance was symptomatic of the bigger issue at the company—the projects to promote trade with poor communities were in many of her colleague’s views no longer central to the organization’s product development efforts. Many viewed these projects as an expensive distraction. (2003, p. 78)

Joni was able to rethink the way she presented this option and convince people to change their approach. Meyerson highlights some of the key strategies for successful negotiations, including being able to step back and gain distance, looking inward to your own personal motives and being clear what you want out of this situation, taking stock of the other person’s interests, and using a third party. Leveraging Small Wins Meyerson (2003) uses the example of Peter to demonstrate how tempered radicals can continue to make change by leveraging small wins. Peter worked slowly to get more underrepresented minorities hired at his company. First, he began with reexamining the company’s recruitment techniques and had human resources advertise more broadly. Years later, he worked to help hiring managers rethink the way they looked at application files and to broaden their criteria. Several years

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after the ­discussion of the application files, the company began to hire more diverse candidates. When these individuals were hired, Peter met with each person and asked for his or her commitment to help hire and mentor more minority candidates. Through his efforts, he helped recruit forty minority candidates within a few years. Within ten years, that number grew to 1,500 candidates, and over thirty years the number has grown to 3,500 employees. More minority employees are in the executive ranks than ever before, and an active support network for minority employees has been established. Yet Peter started this effort with very small actions that grew over time. Meyerson provides a variety of examples of small wins that can help make companies more environmentally friendly: placing a green bin under everyone’s desk so that employees can recycle without having to get up; configuring computers to shut down automatically after short periods of inactivity; switching to buying coffee from fair trade suppliers; and setting up a carpool for lunchtime supermarket shopping. Research demonstrates that small wins are important because they break up a major change into small and doable parts. They are psychologically easier to accomplish and bring less anxiety and personal risk. Meyerson provides a variety of examples of ways that people can position themselves to create small wins by timing battles wisely, looking through daily routines for activities that can be easily built, challenging the organization’s tolerance, and creating a blurry vision or plan of action that is flexible enough that techniques can be adapted easily. Small wins must also be communicated so that others realize their value, become involved in the initiative, and begin to directly experience its success. Organizing Collective Action Readers probably more commonly understand the tactic of organizing collective action because it is a traditional part of grassroots organizing. As Meyerson herself notes, “Her observations of tempered radicals who have successfully organized collectives are consistent with the findings from the larger body of research on social movements” (2003, p. 124). There are three important conditions for fostering collective action within institutional settings: (1) the presence of immediate political opportunities as threats; (2) the available structures for members to organize themselves into a collective; and (3) the framing of collective identity, opportunities, and threats. People are more likely to galvanize into a collective movement when there is a sense that they are likely to succeed in creating change because of some shift in the environment.



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Collectives are more likely to form when there are resources and support structures in place to help them meet. Many organizations have existing structures in place that can facilitate collective actions, such as employee groups, committees, or a union. In terms of framing the issue, Meyerson (2003) describes this as the act of interpreting a threat or opportunity that makes it relevant for the interests of a collective of people. This framing is often accomplished through creating a vision. Meyerson makes the point that within institutional settings getting collective action can be difficult. Without an immediate political threat or opportunity, people in the organization are often apathetic. It can be harder to frame a collective identity in an organization where people already identify with their units or divisions. Meyerson (2003) uses the example of David Weldon, a man who is trying to implement a system of social responsibility and environmental sustainability into business practices at banks. She notes how he recognized the situation was right for collective action. There was a structure in place through the existence of a future leader cohort—a two-year internal training program in the bank that was supposed to create a new generation of leaders within the banking system. This already existing system created a coordinated network for him to unleash his ideas. David framed the opportunity to his peers by acknowledging their unique political opportunity to make a difference because of their position as future leaders. His ability to create a compelling vision and shared sense of purpose among the future leaders was a catalyst for collective action. Often an individual can ignite action among a group of people if they are smart and recognize the opportunity to bring in others. Meyerson also goes on to describe some of the dilemmas of organizing collective action, ranging from creating a shared vision to creating an internal and cohesive culture, managing organizational structure and leadership, and creating outside support. Challenges, Resiliency, and a Systems Approach Meyerson also describes significant challenges or obstacles tempered radicals face when trying to create changes that challenge the organizational status quo. Many of the challenges she describes are more psychological in orientation (perhaps based on the researcher’s background). One of the contributions of our study was to examine the barriers and difficulties tempered radicals face in a broader manner, looking at organizational aspects such as institutional culture, institutional structures like rewards, or the institutional mission, not just internal struggles. The first challenge that Meyerson describes is ambivalence—she notes

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that ambivalence is simultaneously holding opposing feelings toward the same object, say of love and hate. She notes that tempered radicals maintain ambivalence toward their organizations and other employees for long periods of time but that it takes a psychological toll on the individual. Ambivalence produces high levels of anxiety and repressed feelings that can, in turn, create more anxiety. Tempered radicals also experience guilt because changes take much longer when working within the organization, and they feel that they are not producing change quickly enough to benefit those in need. Tempered radicals feel loneliness because they are often both insiders and outsiders in their organization. Most organizations have a set of insiders and outsiders, but tempered radicals often straddle this divide and belong to neither group, often being accused of hypocrisy. Outsiders believe the tempered radicals are not willing to push hard enough to lose their jobs, and insiders believe that they should stop their constant pressure for change and just go along. Another major challenge that Meyerson (2003) mentions is the lure toward co-optation. Organizations reward people for conformity with inclusion, legitimacy, status, opportunities, recognition, and material compensation. Tempered radicals constantly struggle not to give in to these many lures. Meyerson notes that conformity does not guarantee these rewards, but the chances of obtaining these awards are often greater for those who consistently conform. There are also pressures from the organization to prove loyalty, and pushing for changes outside the norm raises questions about one’s loyalty to the organization. As tempered radicals continue to push for change, their reputations are often damaged and their legitimacy lost. Lastly, many tempered radicals become frustrated and burned out from trying to create change for such a long time, and they experience many setbacks during the slow and incremental change process. As Meyerson notes, “Challenges and obstacles may be an inevitable part of the tempered radicals’ swim against the tide,” so figuring out ways to maintain resiliency is particularly important (2003, p. 155). One of the most important elements for maintaining resiliency is to have allies and a supportive subculture. Grassroots leaders who are isolated and without allies within the organization generally burn out or leave. Grassroots leaders need only a few allies or a small supportive subculture. Just a few informal connections that help them occasionally feel that they are a part of the organization are important both to maintain the change effort and to help them want to stay part of the organization. Tempered radicals are often likely to feel like lone deviants or troublemakers. Some affinity group provides comfort and affirmation. Second, she notes that local relationships and the support of an immediate super-



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visor are significant for people to feel safe to speak their opinions and work toward change. Tempered radicals also feel more resilient if their supervisors allow them room to experiment and do work in a slightly different way. If direct supervisors affirm their efforts and allow them to be slightly different, this helps them to continue their work toward change. Also, trust was critical within their local units, departments, or groups. One of the helpful contributions of Meyerson’s (2003) study to our examination of grassroots leadership is that many of the components of being a grassroots leader are interconnected in the tempered radicals framework. Being tempered is an overall strategy for being successful. The tactics that she identifies are related to this overarching strategy (of being tempered) and tend to be more incremental and less visible. The tactics and strategy are suggestive of institutional obstacles that might be faced, and the strategy or tactics become ways to overcome some of the inherent obstacles. A more tempered approach is also a recognition that power conditions exist within institutional contexts. Because of the many institutional obstacles, including power, resiliency can be extremely difficult in these settings. Therefore, Meyerson pays particular attention to the psychological toll on grassroots leaders, and she carefully describes these so that they can be avoided. Much of the literature that exists on grassroots leadership, which will be described next, tends to study a facet of grassroots leadership—strategies, tactics, or obstacles— in isolation, rather than providing a comprehensive framework as Meyerson does. Meyerson’s framework offers a way to conceptualize all of the facets of grassroots leadership together and look at the interaction of these various component parts. Resiliency is much easier to understand when we know the motivations, tactics, and obstacles faced by grassroots leaders. Our own study mirrors this approach of looking at the interaction of power, motivations, and tactics. In addition, Meyerson’s (2003) framework combines various perspectives, including the psychological, social psychological, and organizational. The ambiguity and emotional toll that she documents are interpreted through psychological theories and concepts that have been identified in other studies of grassroots leadership as well. Her discussion of mobilization and negotiation are also understood in relationship to social psychological theories and examine the interaction of individuals. Lastly, Meyerson’s framework touches on organizational perspectives, examining how the demographics or culture of the organization affects the success of tempered radicals and their resiliency and shapes the obstacles they face. While grassroots leadership clearly entails these various levels, most studies have come from a narrowly psychological

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or social ­psychological perspective. Few studies have come from an organizational perspective, mostly because grassroots leadership has been studied outside institutional settings; thus Meyerson (2003) brings important new ideas to the study of grassroots leadership. As we framed and conducted our study, we interpreted phenomena from these three different levels: psychological, social psychological (group), and organizational. The psychological area is represented in Figure 2.2 by the individual column. We identified three major psychological concepts for grassroots leaders—motivation, identity, and resiliency. Similarly, the group column represents many concepts in social psychology, including tactics, strategy, and power dynamics. Finally, the organizational level addresses the need for leadership development, explores group formation, and examines institutional structures and culture. Subsequent chapters provide many examples of this multilevel analysis. For example, in Chapter Six we review obstacles that grassroots leaders face—marginalization (individual), divergent visions (group), and organizational (leadership development). The multilevel nature of Meyerson’s model and each of the concepts—resiliency, tactics, motivation, and the like—are complemented by the literature on grassroots leadership described in the Appendix. We briefly define each of these concepts in Figure 2.2 as they are used throughout this book. More detailed definitions and a review of these

Individual

Group

Organizational

Motivation

Tactics

Leadership development

Identity

Strategy

Group formation

Resiliency

Power dynamics

Structures and culture

Figure 2.2.  Grassroots leadership model; challenges and obstacles.



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concepts in the literature are offered in the Appendix. In later chapters we review these concepts in more detail and provide more discussion. However, the focus of the book is grassroots leadership—not identity, power dynamics, or organizational culture—and thus we do not have extended discussions of each of these concepts, which have been well developed in specific books on each of these topics. Here we describe how they are defined and used in this book and how they relate to the concept of grassroots leadership. Motivation refers to the reasons or causes for involvement in grassroots leadership. Motivations can vary from self-interest or passion to sense of commitment or responsibility. Identity refers to the characteristics that make up an individual and make him or her distinctive. At the same time, identity is defined as personal characteristics that make one identifiable as part of a group— racial, ethnic, gender, and so on. In terms of the relationship of identity to grassroots leadership, we were interested in how people’s unique background and experiences might inform their concept and approach to grassroots leadership. There is also literature that suggests that race and gender shape the way people act as grassroots leaders (Prindeville, 2003; Taylor, 1999). Resiliency refers to the ability to bounce back from difficult circumstances. The literature on grassroots leadership looks at conditions that shape resiliency, such as holding strong values, having balance, feeling optimism, and networking. Strategy is an overarching principle that is applied to various tactics to achieve a goal such as compromise, flexibility, confrontation, or a pragmatic focus. Tactics are specific methods for achieving goals such as consciousness raising, empowerment, relationship building, organizing, and participating in marches. In relationship to the grassroots literature and study, tactics and strategy are primary methods for achieving their goal of social change. The terms power dynamics and conditions refer to interactions between different people in an environment or social structure as they each try to assert control within the environment. Power dynamics relates to social interactions and clashing of individuals as they attempt to shape an environment in potentially different ways. The literature on grassroots leadership examines the ways people navigate formal authority structures that typically try to blockade or resist bottom-up change efforts. Two related terms are important to define as they will be referred to in the book. Power is a person’s ability to control the environment around him- or herself, including the behavior of other people. One way to control the environment is through influence; thus we may also refer to influence, which is the ability to move or control something through power. Also, the term authority is often used in reference to power when speaking about legitimate forms of power within the ­social structure of

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organizations. One way to control the environment is through authority structures. Grassroots leadership itself is an expression of power, involves influence, and can collide with authority. In the discussion about grassroots leadership, much of the power dynamic relates to interactions between grassroots leaders and formal authority structures and how they might clash because of differing interests. Leadership development focuses on formal and informal efforts to train and educate others about the tactics, strategy, resiliency, and power dynamics involved in grassroots leadership. Formal efforts might involve brown-bag lunches or the formation of networks, while informal efforts might include mentoring and coaching. The focus in grassroots literature is more on organically developed and informal leadership development because there is typically little formal leadership development as an institutionalized practice. Group formation refers to people who come together voluntarily for a shared purpose and can include networks, teams, ad hoc committees, and the like. The literature examines conditions that shape whether and how groups form and their impact on grassroots leadership processes. The term organizational structures refers to the policies and practices of an organization, such as hiring procedures, shared governance mechanisms, or reward structures, while organizational culture refers to the underlying values, norms, and assumptions that guide behavior and shape other processes such as hiring decisions. These are some of the main concepts that will be referred to in remaining chapters. We will elaborate on these definitions in specific chapters, but this section provides a foundation for understanding how these terms are used. conclusion In summary, the tempered radicals framework offers a way for us to look at individual leaders, to investigate a tempered approach through a range of different tactics used to create change, to understand some of the obstacles and challenges faced by tempered radicals, and to consider resiliency. Meyerson’s framework is particularly noteworthy as it provides an overarching connection among various components of grassroots leadership at the individual, group, and organizational levels not offered in much of the earlier literature. Much of the grassroots literature examines motivation, group dynamics, and collective identity, for example, in isolation, not looking at the interrelationship of concepts. The close fit of the tempered radicals framework for the academy and



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institutional setting made us rely on Meyerson’s work to examine this issue of bottom-up leadership on college campuses. In this chapter, we also defined some of the key terms that will be used throughout the book. With the conceptual framing for the book outlined, we now move on to describing the study and the institutions where the case study research took place.

chapter three

Developing a Study of Grassroots Leaders Approach to Inquiry, Assumptions, and Institutional Descriptions

; To place the stories and findings described in future chapters in context, we briefly describe the overall approach for the study. We begin by sharing some of the underlying assumptions that shaped and framed our study and that are important to understanding the findings. These assumptions relate to the theoretical discussion in Chapter Two. Lastly, we also provide an overview of the five campuses because readers will be hearing stories that take place within these contexts. a pp roac h to i nqu i ry of g r a ssroo t s l e a de r s Case study was chosen as the methodology for several reasons. Grassroots leadership is a process, and case study is ideal for studying processes. In addition, grassroots leadership may vary by institutional context, as suggested by the literature, and case study is ideal for examining multiple institutions to examine contextual differences. Moreover, multiple sources of information (interviews, documents, observation) are important to understand a complex process that happens over time and with various groups and individuals (Creswell, 2009; Stake, 2005). Case study allowed us to collect different forms of data and to get feedback on these data from people within the setting. We chose what is termed an instrumental case study research design (Stake, 2005). In this approach, the researcher foregrounds the phenomenon of grassroots leadership (including strategies, processes, activities, convergence with topdown leadership, and challenges), and the case study setting is placed in the background. While we were interested in the institutions and how



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context might affect grassroots leadership, we were much more focused on understanding grassroots leadership efforts. We had six criteria for selecting cases: (1) typical institution; (2) presence of more than one grassroots leadership effort; (3) grassroots efforts among faculty and staff; (4) variety of institutional types; (5) presence of a series of nested cases (for example, environmentalism) with multiple individuals we could interview per case; and (6) location close enough to one of the researchers so that repeated visits could be conducted. We were interested in examining and understanding the bottom-up leadership efforts of faculty and staff working within “typical” institutions of higher education (that is, those institutions not characterized by an institutional commitment to innovation, activism, and change). They had some grassroots leadership among faculty and staff but no unusual history or culture that fostered such activism. So “typical” related to the level of activism and support for activism. While is it difficult to say what a typical higher education institution is, we attempted to pick institutions that had no unusual structure, history, or culture. For example, we did not choose institutions with unique histories or backgrounds such as Alverno College (unique curriculum) or California State University Monterey Bay (new campus with alternative teaching and mission). While we were striving for typical institutions, we wanted varying institutional types. We also wanted more than one grassroots effort taking place on the campus so that we could compare and contrast efforts to see if the strategies and approaches differed. These multiple efforts could then become specific nested cases to include in the study. Therefore, the researchers followed nested cases (such as groups working on furthering diversity or environmentalism) within the overall case. Thus, within our study the overall case is the institution, and the nested cases are the change initiatives. Because case selection is one of the most important criteria for informing trustworthiness or the validity in a case study, to begin selection of institutions for study extensive document analysis was undertaken and a set of interviews was conducted to determine whether the site was appropriate for study. Interviews were initially conducted with each campus’s informant(s) to understand whether the site had a concentration of individuals who would be considered grassroots leaders but no unusual history or culture that could lead to the leadership activity. In addition, a document analysis of campus newspapers, faculty governance minutes and agendas, strategic plans, and curriculum was compiled in a report to understand the campus culture related to change, potential nested cases, and the names of potential participants. We identified five typical institutions of higher education representing different sectors ­(community

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college, liberal arts college, private research university, technical university, and regional public university), assuming that grassroots leadership might differ by institutional type. A variety of studies have identified the impact institutional type has on organizational processes (Birnbaum, 1988; Kezar, 2001b). None of these institutions has a well-documented record of promoting innovation or grassroots change, so they are not unique cases; however, the informants noted that some grassroots efforts were underway, and thus they serve as appropriate sites for case study. Identification and Recruitment of Participants As an initial means of identifying these grassroots leaders, we contacted influential faculty and well-networked university administrators and staff and had an inside informant on each campus to ask for assistance identifying staff and faculty actively involved in grassroots (local, bottom-up) change efforts. A member of the research team contacted individuals identified as grassroots leaders and invited them to participate in the study. After this initial round of participant recruitment, a snowball sampling technique was used to recruit additional participants involved in various movements on campus. In addition to recruiting individual participants who were considered grassroots leaders, we also focused on identifying change initiatives to serve as nested cases (for example, diversity, environmentalism), and then we asked to speak with other individuals who were specifically involved with those initiatives. We had between four and fifteen individuals who commented on each nested case. The following represent some, though not all, of the nested cases we followed to understand the spectrum of leadership efforts: diversity (ranging from race, to sexual orientation, gender, disability, and income), innovative pedagogies (service, active, collaborative, cooperative learning), environmentalism, staff equity, child care centers, wellness, student success, campus and community partnerships, anticapitalist movements, immigration rights, and participation in governance. We continued to seek additional research participants until we had exhausted our recommendations and saturated the sample. By saturation, we mean that the participants began to bring up all the same themes, and few new ideas were emerging. The findings presented in this book draw on interviews conducted with 165 grassroots leaders—eighty-four staff and eighty-one faculty members at five different institutions (typically thirty-three individuals per institution) engaged in grassroots leadership. The interviewed faculty came from across all ranks (assistant, associate, and full pro-



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fessors and both tenure and non–tenure track), and staff ranged from custodial staff to mid-level staff (assistant director in a student affairs office). There were more people of color and women than their proportional numbers within the sample compared to the populations of the ­institution. Data Collection and Analysis One-on-one, semistructured interviews provided the primary data for this study. A member of the research team interviewed each participant at least once, with the interview lasting approximately one hour. The interviews were audiotaped and transcribed. The interview questions and prompts focused on five key themes to focus on issues related to our research questions: (1) the focus of the participants’ change efforts; (2) the strategies for creating change; (3) the issues that enable and constrain grassroots leadership; (4) the strategies for maintaining resilience; and (5) navigating power and internal conflicts. As noted under case selection, we also conducted informant interviews on each campus and performed a document analysis to understand the context. Document analysis consisted of a review of student and campus newspapers; minutes from faculty, staff, and student senate meetings and other governance bodies; community and local newspapers; planning documents: course syllabi and documents; and documents participants noted as important to a particular change effort. We analyzed documents initially to identify and understand the character of grassroots initiatives on campus and the general campus culture. We visited each campus approximately four times and for some visits stayed on site for a week. During these longer campus visits we also conducted observations of the campus (such as informal luncheons with campus activists, rallies, or formal meetings of campus grassroots groups), took field notes, and collected additional documents (referred to in interviews), which we also analyzed. We analyzed the data through systematic coding, looking for both inductive and deductive themes (Miles & Huberman, 1994; Strauss & Corbin, 1990). The grassroots and tempered radicals frameworks were used to analyze data. Interview transcripts served as the primary means of data analysis, but documents, observation, and team notes and reflections were also coded and analyzed. Data analysis began during the initial stages of data collection. While on site conducting interview and observing, team members took notes or made memos reflecting interpretations of interviews and observations. The team was encouraged to end each day by writing up impressions and any initial interpretations. Before, during, and after site visits, team meetings were held to discuss

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data at sites. Research team members took an active role in the data analysis, meeting regularly to address data analysis questions, compare interpretations, and develop consensus on research findings. The data analysis at each site concluded with the write-up of the final research report with input from each researcher based on all data sources. We examined the data for differences by institutional type and whether some aspect of the campus culture or institutional type was shaping strategies used, approaches to resiliency, obstacles, and so on. We identified some differences that are highlighted, but there were greater similarities and only minor differences, so we chose not to highlight findings by institutional type. Differences by institutional type are highlighted in Chapter Five on tactics and strategies and in Chapter Eight about power conditions on campus. We also examined for differences based on the type of initiative— diversity versus service learning, for example. This analysis took place primarily in the nested case reports. Minor differences among the initiatives are also highlighted in the book, such as that diversity initiatives face more resistance (Chapter Seven). Furthermore, the type of initiative shaped the patterns of support for convergence between administrators and grassroots leaders—certain initiatives such as environmentalism seem to be resisted more by the institution, while other initiatives such as pedagogical changes tend to be resisted more by faculty in departments (Chapter Ten). We also analyzed for differences by role as faculty and staff. We highlight differences between these two groups in Chapter Six on obstacles, Chapter Seven related to power dynamics, and Chapter Twelve on encouraging and supporting grassroots leadership, as these were the main areas where there were differences by role. We also analyzed the data for differences related to motivation or identity. Chapter Four, for example, shows how some grassroots leaders saw their work as a calling while others had more instrumental motivations. Therefore, we analyzed the data looking at various distinctions among individuals (faculty versus staff, motivation, identity), groups (different initiatives), and institutions (institutional type, institutional culture). When we refer to case analysis, we have cases at three levels within this research. The institutions are a case that we call “institutional reports” in the data analysis, the particular initiatives were cases that we labeled “nested cases,” and individual interviews also represent cases that were often analyzed in their own right. Institutional reports were formulated by reviewing and summarizing all the documents, observations, and informant interviews. The informant interviews, in particular, were focused on better understanding the broad context of the



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institution. For each individual interview with a grassroots leader, we also had several questions about the institutional context. We pulled this source of data from the interviews to help create the institutional reports. Institutional reports provided an overall portrait of the campus context, such as governance, authority structure, institutional culture, values, history, key individuals, and how processes and decisions flow. A second step of analysis was also used in creating institutional reports. We separated out interviews for the specific campus and looked across the main topics—strategies, resiliency, obstacles, support for grassroots leaders examining for trends specific to that institution. The nested cases were created by analyzing the interview data for all individuals involved in a particular initiative (for example, environmentalism). If only a small number of individuals were involved in an initiative, it did not become a nested case. The baseline for a nested case to be created was four interviewees. We then incorporated informant comments on the nested case and any observation or document data we had specific to that nested case. Also, sometimes a grassroots leader on another initiative would comment on a different change effort, and we would incorporate these data as well. The nested cases reports described the history, goals, purpose, vision, trajectory, strategies, obstacles, outcomes, current situation, and dynamics of the initiative. In terms of data analysis presented in specific chapters, the following provides an overview of the approaches used to develop interpretations and findings (a summary is provided in Table 3.1). For the Chapter Four narratives, we conducted analysis of each individual interview related to the main areas of inquiry—motivation, identity, strategy, tactic, obstacles, resiliency, power conditions, convergence, impact of the organizational context, and group or organizational support for grassroots ta bl e 3.1 Summary of the approaches used to develop interpretations and findings. Chapter number

Analysis of individual cases

Analysis across individual cases

Analysis of nested cases

Four X X Five X X Six X X Seven X X Eight X X Nine X X Ten X Eleven X (primarily) X Twelve X X

Analysis of institutional reports X X X X X X

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leadership. After individually analyzing each transcript, we then looked across all the interviews for similarities, differences, and ultimately for themes that we might highlight as patterns across the literature. Furthermore, Chapter Four presents a summary of data analysis conducted in other chapters. We use the narratives to highlight differences in motivation or identity, data analysis exclusively conducted for this chapter. The data presented in this chapter are based not only on the individual interviews but are triangulated with data from other interviewees (including those who were not grassroots leaders) and documents and observation (similar to all chapters, but we make this specific point in this chapter as it is often less apparent when presenting individual narratives that were informed by other sources of data). Chapter Five focuses on analysis of data specific to tactics and strategy and looks at patterns that could be found across the interview data (as triangulated with documents and observation). We also constructed reports for each nested case (remember that nested cases are analysis of an initiative when we had multiple interviews on that case) that contained data from all individuals who participated in these cases as well as outsiders who commented on those cases and any relevant documents. We also created reports for institutions (or institutional profiles) examining for differences at this more macrolevel. The final analysis involved examining a combination of the nested case reports, overall institutional profiles, and themes drawn across the individual interviews. The nested cases and individual interview analysis were triangulated as different data points (although they were constructed from roughly the same data). However, using different methodological approaches (and different researchers) for looking at the data provided additional trustworthiness. Chapters Six and Seven followed a similar data analysis process to that described in Chapter Five (individual analysis of interviews but looking for patterns across the 165 interviews and nested cases) but focused on obstacles and power conditions. Chapters Eight and Nine returned to an individual interview analysis used in Chapter Four, where we examined each individual’s conceptualizations of power and self-­ reported impact on his or her approach to grassroots leadership (Chapter Eight) or that individual’s understanding of how she or he remained resilient (Chapter Nine). It should be noted that in Chapter Eight we tried to validate the data by triangulating self-reports with perspectives from outsiders observing the grassroots initiative. We then looked for trends across individual interviews. We conducted a review of nested cases and institutional profiles for differences in resiliency and power definitions, and some differences were identified related to definitions



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of power and institutional context. Chapter Ten (on convergence of topdown and bottom-up leaders) emerged from the nested case analysis examining tactics, strategy, obstacles, and power within grassroots initiatives. The chapter relies on data primarily from the nested case reports. Chapter Eleven, on leading in a time of corporatization, which examines the impact of organizational structures and culture, relies on analysis and trends across individual interviews. The nested cases and institutional reports did not demonstrate the impact of a more corporatized environment, but some individuals brought up the influence. This theme had the least support and data compared to other themes that were well represented across the individual interviews as well as collective stories created through the nested cases or institutional case reports. Thus, this is an area in which we recommend future research. Chapter Twelve, on encouraging and supporting faculty and staff grassroots leadership, was created through analysis of individual interviews and cross-case analysis of overall institutional reports. As we note in the following section under limitations, in some sections we were limited to self-reported data through interviews. However, wherever possible we tried to obtain other sources of support via other interviewees, nongrassroots leaders (informants), historical documentation, newspaper reports, or our own observations while at meetings or with groups. Trustworthiness We used several methods to ensure trustworthiness (similar to the term validity) within the study. First, because case site selection is one of the primary ways to ensure trustworthiness within a case study, we spent several months identifying the institutions where we would conduct the study. We wanted to be sure that these campuses had ample grassroots activity but were also not unique or distinctive campuses. Second, we spent considerable time on each campus. Researchers visited the campuses regularly—several times a month over a six-month period—or spent intensive intervals on campus, conducting interviews, meeting with informants, gathering new documents, and observing campus life. Having great familiarity with each campus helped to ensure that interpretations we made about the data were more accurate, particularly as we assessed the impact of institutional or organizational culture on the way groups worked together on campus. Third, we interviewed both grassroots leaders and other members of the campus (informants) to get a fuller picture of the work of grassroots leaders and the nested cases we were describing. We triangulated the perspectives of individuals outside the grassroots initiatives with those inside who were part of the change

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effort. Fourth, we had multiple researchers at most sites (two sites had primarily one researcher) who talked and journaled regularly, trying to provide richer interpretations of the data. Thus, researchers themselves were comparing interpretations and testing out ideas throughout the data collection and analysis period. Fifth, we had multiple individuals conduct data analysis and review the interpretation. Lastly, we had multiple sources of data that we triangulated in terms of interviews, documents, and observations. som e u n de r ly i ng a ssu m p t ions Several assumptions and intentions guided the purpose and approach to the study and are worth noting. This study is based on the perceptions of faculty and staff grassroots leaders. While we interviewed other people on campus to gain a sense of the context, the conclusions and findings are based primarily on perceptions of faculty and staff grassroots leaders. Although we looked across various people’s interpretation of issues, we are not describing what we would consider any kind of single reality or truth. Instead, we saw value in understanding the perceptions and the realities of everyday faculty and staff grassroots leaders and understanding more about their experiences. We acknowledge that people might have a false sense of consciousness or misinterpret their environment. While we rely mostly on the perceptions of grassroots leaders, we found limited data that contradict their interpretations. We also know that it would have been valuable to observe these leadership processes as they unfolded over time. However, given the long-term nature of grassroots change efforts (often five to fifteen years), such observation would be extremely difficult and time consuming. Yet our various sources of data—interviews (with grassroots leaders and some outside observers), observation, and documents—helped create a trustworthy and robust portrait. In addition to highlighting that the book is based on perceptions and little direct observation, it is also important to point out that we will from time to time refer to more successful change efforts. While we primarily base our determination of the success on the perceptions of the grassroots leaders themselves (who often responded that efforts were not successful and appeared to be quite straightforward and honest), we also asked other individuals in the context about the success of the particular initiative. For example, did other people on campus perceive that diversity have been advanced by the faculty and staff grassroots leaders? Through our observation and site visits, we also collected tangible



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examples of the advancement and success of these grassroots efforts. We identified new curricula, new programs and services, and, in some cases, even a changed culture. We cannot claim the grassroots efforts caused them, but we can note that people attributed these changes to the grassroots leadership. Again, we are not striving for some singular reality or truth about what happened on these campuses, and we realize that different people will perceive more or less success; we tried to gain some insight into the progress of different initiatives. We also analyzed data looking at differences in the tactics, strategies, resiliency, power conditions, and obstacles faced by grassroots leaders in more successful efforts and less successful efforts to see if there seemed to be any identifiable patterns. While we cannot determine causality, we were able to observe some interesting patterns that may be suggestive of differences in tactics, such as leaders who were more successful and those who are less successful. However, we want readers to be well aware that we are not assigning causal links in describing these patterns. What we describe are relationships that exist in the data and perceptions held by grassroots leaders. While grassroots leaders might think a particular strategy was effective, other people may perceive that the strategy was not effective or have data to support how it was not effective. In parts of the text, we do provide the counternarratives that question some of the grassroots leaders’ perceptions of their efforts. We used data from other sources when developing these interpretations. However, for the most part, nongrassroots leaders confirmed the perceptions of grassroots leaders. Finally, the main theoretical framework used in this study, Meyerson’s tempered radicals framework (2003)—described in Chapter Two— studied grassroots leaders in corporations and took a more psycho­ logical perspective. She was primarily interested in the motivations, attitudes, and resiliency of grassroots leaders. While we also examined psychological issues such as resiliency, we hoped to build on Meyerson’s work by applying an organizational perspective. We focused on organizational obstacles that affect grassroots leaders, ways the grassroots leaders shaped and changed the organization, and convergence with top-down leaders, and we examined different institutional types and organizational cultures and their impact on grassroots leadership. Because of this organizational perspective, we anticipated that there would be institutional differences because many organizational phenomena differ by institutional type; for example, research university versus liberal arts college. However, the findings suggest that institutional type had a minimal relationship on tactics, strategy, obstacles, risks, or resiliency. These issues (such as tactics) tended to be more common across

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the various institutions we examined, regardless of context. We did find some institutional differences that we point out in the chapters. As an overall assumption, institutional differences were not as significant as we anticipated. There were also some differences by initiative pursued (diversity versus service learning). The initiatives seem to be related to different obstacles, power conditions, and the like. These will be highlighted in later chapters. While an organizational perspective provided some new insights into grassroots leadership in institutionalized settings and built on earlier psychological work, a social psychological lens that focuses on group work and dynamics may provide the most insights into grassroots leadership in future work, as there seem to be more differences based on the nested cases or group level. p e r son a l a ssu m p t ions: ou r ow n g r a ssroo t s l e a de r sh i p While we studied grassroots leadership efforts, we have also been active participants in grassroots leadership. Our own grassroots leadership experiences informed and helped us to interpret and understand the grassroots leaders whom we interviewed. These experiences provided tacit knowledge for understanding the activities and practices that took place on the campuses that we studied. Adrianna Kezar has been a long-time advocate for change in the academy and has focused on diversity, social justice, and alternative pedagogies. She has spent the last six years working to improve the conditions for non–tenure track faculty at the University of Southern California. She began this work by creating and leading a committee for the School of Education to examine schoolwide governance and why non–tenure track faculty were not included. The end result of the effort was that non–tenure track faculty became included in governance, and the school began to look at other issues for non–tenure track faculty such as salary, promotion, mentoring, and a host of other issues that affect contingent faculty. Kezar then continued this work at the university level, joining the non–tenure track committee as well as the academic senate. The university is now considering a host of new policies and practices to improve the lives of non–tenure track faculty members, which she hopes will have been passed and implemented by the time this book is published. She has also worked to advance diversity and multiculturalism efforts at the University of Southern California and at the University of Maryland. She has been involved in mentoring efforts, committees, networking, conferences, speaker series, and other work to increase



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awareness and programming for students and faculty of color. Lastly, she has worked to advance alternative pedagogies (particularly service learning) at the University of Michigan and the University of Southern California. While at the University of Michigan, she worked to develop a proposal for the Center for Service Learning that has been in place for well over a decade. She learned many grassroots organizing skills from Barry Checkoway, faculty member in the School of Social Work at the University of Michigan, whose research focuses on grassroots organizing and with whom she worked to start the service learning initiatives at the university. This book emerged from Kezar’s own experience in teaching leadership courses in higher education. Each semester students would comment that much of the literature focused on presidents, provosts, and deans; they could not see their own leadership abilities or strategies within these studies. Grassroots leaders generally cannot use the same strategies and tactics as executives, administrators, and managers who have access to resources, can mandate action, oversee human and technical resources, and set institutional priorities and planning. Our research reaffirmed that grassroots leaders need to use different strategies and tactics, suggesting that this book would be an invaluable resource for use in leadership and educational (K–12) and higher education leadership courses and for leaders who need guidance and support. Since her days as an undergraduate at the University of Michigan protesting for the protection of affirmative action, Jaime Lester has maintained a focus on social justice as both a grassroots organizer and as an intellectual. Her work at University of Michigan included organizing support for the continuation of a progressive student-run women’s studies course, organizing alternative spring break trips to women’s shelters around the country, and protesting legal challenges to affirmative action. Her work continued while attending graduate school at the University of Southern California. She revived the Graduate Student Feminist Network with a focus on two major agendas: first, advocating for greater safety measures on campus; and, second, establishing services and policies for graduate student parents. Out of these efforts came the creation of several temporary lactation rooms with plans for a permanent location, a policy to secure funding for graduate students who give birth to or adopt a child, and an annual panel of faculty who struggle with work–life balance to inform graduate students about these issues. Much of this activist work is documented in an edited volume on family-friendly policies in academe (Lester & Sallee, 2009). While in the professoriate, Lester continues to be a role model for academic parents by hosting events at conferences, writing a weblog, organizing panels

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at conferences, making public speeches to aspiring professors, speaking individually to other faculty, and advocating for the development of new work–life balance policies at Old Dominion University and George Mason University. Our experiences and personal assumptions have shaped our understanding of the grassroots leadership we see in the following institutional case studies. i n t roduc t ion to t h e i ns t i t u t ions The key to case study research is the cases themselves. Building on the methodology we described earlier in the chapter, we now introduce the five different campuses that we visited. The five institutions as noted earlier represent very different sectors—a community college, a liberal arts college, a private research university, a public comprehensive college, and a technical college. We gave each institution a pseudonym that tries to capture the spirit of grassroots leadership on that campus. We hope that by reading these cases you can see a campus similar to your own or perhaps some similar features or characteristics. We believe these institutions reflect grassroots leadership at many campuses and that the contexts, while all unique in some ways, are fairly typical postsecondary institutions. Table 3.2 is a summary table provided to help guide the reader and for easy reference when reviewing the chapters, and we provide more detail on all these factors in the following narrative. Community Activist College Community Activist College is located in a suburban area and is a highly respected college among the local community and by other community colleges in the state and nationally. As a result of being close to a major metropolitan area, the campus is quite diverse racially and economically—students, faculty, administrators, and staff. The large campus, with 25,000 students, also had many immigrant communities move into the area, particularly Asian immigrants. While community colleges are often noted for being bureaucratic, people spoke of this campus as collegial and consensual. The administration had less power than many other campuses in our study, and interviewees described administrators as frustrated by low resources and unable to deliver on promises to create the type of learning community they wanted. This difference resulted in less power for the administration, which had few resources to allocate. The administration was also more politically and socially



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Developing a Study of Grassroots Leaders ta bl e 3.2 General characteristics of the five campuses.

Characteristic

Community

Research university

Public regional Technical university college

Liberal arts college

Size

25,000

25,000

17,000

30,000

3,000

Control

Public

Private

Public

Public

Private

Selectivity

Open access

Highly ­selective

Moderately selective

Moderately selective

Highly selective

Resources

Constrained

Moderately strong

Moderate, ­constrained more recently

Constrained

Strong ­resources

Location

Outside ­u rban

Urban

Rural

Suburban

Suburban

Student body

Diverse by Diverse by race, gender, race and social class gender

Diverse by gender

Diverse by race, gender, and social class

Diverse by gender, increasingly by race

Weak

Strong and controlling

Strong

Administration Weak

Strong and controlling

Faculty and Very distaff demoverse and ­progressive graphics and political orientation

Increasingly Not diverse diverse, and fairly moderately ­conservative conservative

Very diverse; mixed, progressive but more ­conservative

Increasingly diverse, ­progressive

Culture

Entrepreneurial, topdown and hierarchical, imageconscious, striving

Very contentious relationship between faculty and administration; unionized; adjusting to more diverse student body

Collegial; close-knit, currently some politics between the administration and faculty; classic liberal arts experience

Studentoriented, developmental, proud of mission and colleagues, unionized

Student-­ oriented; known for innovative teaching ideas; collaborative work relationships; recent budget ­problems

conservative than the faculty and staff, but from time to time the administration had some more progressive visionaries. The campus has unionized faculty and staff. The union plays a very strong role on this campus, and people speak very highly of union leadership and the role of the unions in the history of the institution. At times when weak administrators were on campus, it was the union leadership who played a role in helping the campus progress. Staff members in particular talk about the union as a source of support and a place for them to network and meet others. The campus culture was typical of

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many in our study and across the country, where staff are low in status compared to faculty and faculty have less status than administrators. Staff turnover, though, is quite high and a concern for the campus. Staff commitment is not strong, and people pointed out that staff put in their forty hours and do no more. While there are many passive faculty, there is a small group of faculty who are very actively engaged in campus life. These faculty members create a vibrant culture and provide role modeling for new faculty interested in activism. Regardless of some of the frustration among administrators and turnover among staff, Community Activist College was noted as a friendly campus: “If you cross the campus, be prepared to stop ten times before you reach your destination.” Students were noted as being diverse and engaged, which we saw in the rallies and campus demonstrations that took place during our site visit. They have many student organizations, and, for a commuter campus, we found more students “hanging out” than expected. This may be due to the more traditionally aged student population, a change in recent years. When asked about the campus culture, people repeatedly note their pride about the campus and the friendly atmosphere. There was none of the sense of apathy or resentment found on many underfunded community college campuses. In fact, one of the features most noticed when walking around campus were the trashcans that advertise campus pride. The campus is known for a deliberative shared governance process, even with the unions. The history of shared decision making and active input from faculty and staff is also a point of pride on campus. Campus employees discussed that faculty and staff really care about student learning at this campus and that it is not just an espoused value: “not just learning the content but really learning how to be a member of society and learning how to contribute to the other students on campus. They value students as human beings.” Everyone noted that it was a “workaholic environment”—no one was satisfied with the status quo, people always wanted to move forward toward improvements, and this included everyone—administrators, faculty, students, and staff. This desire for self-improvement was one of the truly unique qualities that made this campus different from others in our study—something you cannot know until you talk to members of each of these groups—they have restlessness, a desire to improve. This desire seems to come from the culture of the institution itself. The campus has many long-term faculty members, some who are very progressive. Over the years they have worked to create a network that has an agenda to make a series of changes on campus: promoting multiculturalism (perhaps the longest-term and most widespread effort);



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improving conditions for women and immigrants; racially diversifying the student, staff, and faculty populations; encouraging a environmental and sustainability movement; staff rights; tutorial services for remedial students; and forging campus and community partnerships among other initiatives. A carefully planned hiring effort was a strategy used to advance all these movements, identifying people who had interest in the various grassroots efforts. This long-term strategy has worked to create a campus of grassroots leaders, mostly made up of faculty. While some staff are grassroots leaders, they are often not taught techniques or mentored; they also are rarely part of the campus network (the exception being the diversity group). While some of these changes eventually went through the shared governance system, they all began with these grassroots leaders. Everyone on campus knows that grassroots change is happening— that change can occur from the bottom up, for the most part. A recent effort to include grassroots initiatives in strategic planning has some grassroots leaders cautious. The new president appears to want to support several of their grassroots efforts, and they are suspicious of the long-term effects on their initiatives, specifically institutionalizing grassroots work. They question whether this invitation may hamper their forty-year esteemed history of grassroots work. Can the bottom really partner long term with the top? Disconnected Tempered Radical University Our next campus is a private research university in an urban area serving 25,000 students—a mix of professional graduate students and a much smaller undergraduate population. This campus has an entrepreneurial culture. In fact, the entrepreneurial and decentralized character of the campus was perhaps the most prevalent quality noted by administrators, faculty, staff, and students. For many years the campus was mostly a commuter campus and not highly selective; in recent years, the campus has shifted to a predominantly residential university and has become more selective. While it had a history of being known as a “party school,” it is now known as a more serious academic campus. The campus has its roots as a small religious school. This can still be seen in the attention to undergraduate education, the focus and discussion on a liberal arts curriculum, and the concern among certain individuals about creating a sense of community on this highly fragmented campus. Even with its fragmented and decentralized context, a trait common in a research university, there is much discussion about the place as a community or family. This sense of family or community harkens back to the

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original founding of the campus as a small liberal arts college, which it is far from today. The institution’s long history provides supportive and active alumni who are very involved in campus life. Being in an urban location, it is quite connected to its surrounding communities and the various opportunities and challenges that presents. City and community leaders are also important constituents for the campus; they have great hopes for more campus and community partnerships. Typical of a research university, the school’s faculty are most focused on research and very committed to their disciplines and external projects outside the university. The struggle for the campus is to get faculty engaged on campus, and developing leadership among the faculty is difficult. The long-time and popular president has created many strategic changes on campus that have fundamentally changed the environment: improved town–gown relations, raised national rankings, created a new undergraduate curriculum, much greater selectivity, and the like. The staff, like those on many campuses, are largely invisible. However, certain units with long-term leadership, such as student affairs, enjoy more influence and stability. The campus is extremely decentralized, and power is invested in the campus deans. Students on campus are fairly conservative and focused on academics. The students are becoming increasingly more diverse and international. Faculty and staff commented that these characteristics made it more difficult for them to involve students in activist efforts. The campus is becoming well known for a commitment to interdisciplinary research and an international and a global focus. The school has strong finances thanks to alumni support and some strong capital campaigns. The recent recession has had little impact on the school. This campus is not unionized and has a strong antiunion perspective. Staff and contingent faculty, sorely without support, hope for better working conditions. Grassroots leadership is highly fragmented in pockets around specific initiatives. On other campuses we visited, progressive faculty and staff tended to know each other and team up on new initiatives. Here, faculty and staff generally worked on a particular initiative and were unaware of other grassroots leaders focused on similar or other initiatives. People working on child care generally worked in isolation from those working on athletics, service learning, campus outreach, gay and lesbian rights, diversity, or other women’s issues (although women’s issues are often involved with child care, those working on this concern did not emerge from this particular group). Various, mostly isolated, groups attempted to create change without the benefit of a campuswide network like those that exist on other smaller, more collegial, or better-networked cam-



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puses. Yet there have been periods of time where people talked about change and activism on campus and drew people together across units. One of the notable examples was during the early 1990s, when a series of women faculty and staff from across a variety of disciplines and divisions worked together to create a series of support structures for women students, women faculty, women in the sciences, and women in management. From time to time, the isolated efforts of individuals to better the campus have moved toward more collective organizing. Campus governance is fairly strong but has varied in authority and influence over the years. At times, the faculty felt as though they had little voice on campus, while at other times they had a strong voice in the direction of the campus. The campus is currently undergoing an expansion—building more residence halls and off-campus facilities—and many different groups are working together who have not in the past. Also, the campus is beginning a new strategic planning process. Perhaps more collaboration and interaction is in store for this historically fragmented campus. Innovative Regional Public With a total student population of approximately 17,000, the campus of Innovative Regional Public College serves primarily undergraduate, full-time students in a rural location in the eastern part of the United States. Innovative Regional is classified as a comprehensive college and prides itself on having a residential liberal arts focus. The campus also has a variety of programs on the bachelor’s and master’s levels and professional and preprofessional programs. The major focus is undergraduate education and has been noted as one of the best undergraduate programs by several publications. Innovative Regional Public has a strong value of change that permeates across campus. The mission of the college is to prepare students to be enlightened and live meaningful lives; it is best represented in the motto “Be the Change.” Across the campus in publications and on signs is the change motto with examples of students and faculty who make positive change in the world. In fact, each academic unit has a web page that discusses how students and faculty are creating change in their area, such as education, athletics, and health care. The motto is realized though an extensive alternative spring break and civic engagement initiative and a few faculty who conduct research for and with the community. The student affairs division also has a strong national reputation for innovative orientation programs that are often copied by

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other campuses across the nation. Innovative Regional has a significant connection to the community that is strongly related to its geographic location. The campus is located in a picturesque valley with tall mountains and many outdoor activities. The campus also serves as one of the only employers in the rural area and dominates the small college town. Faculty, staff, and students are members of both the university and the community, creating those strong community ties. Innovative Regional did not begin as a large, public institution with a focus on change; rather, the university began as a women’s school, offering programs equivalent to associate’s degrees. It was not until many decades later that the institution became coeducational and began to expand course offerings to include bachelor’s degrees. The major growth of the university did not occur until twenty years ago when the university began to acquire additional property and increase enrollments. The growth of the university and a more intense focus on research has been met with some skepticism among the faculty and community members. A reach outside of the valley for additional funds, research grants, and business and industry has met with opposition as community members and alumni did not want the institution to lose the liberal arts focus. New faculty often have a greater interest in research and less of a focus on community-based work. In addition, a group of community members also oppose the rapid physical growth of the campus, specifically the acquiring of some historical properties. Innovative Regional has attempted to manage growth by diversifying their portfolio with intense residential undergraduate programs to maintain the liberal arts, partnerships with research groups to promote faculty research, and management of their physical growth to maintain communication with the community. Faculty and staff generally view the campus as innovative, defined by an openness to experiment with new ideas. Many individuals stated that the culture is “We’re not going to stay still,” and described a climate in which people are willing to take risks and engage in collaboration to create change. The impetus for innovation comes from a lack of human and financial resources that challenges the university to find new ways of operating and provides a sense of flexibility in organizational structure and culture. For example, the growth of the alternative spring break initiative was so rapid that more individuals were needed to organize the large numbers of students who wanted to become involved. A new structure was organized to share staff across academic and student affairs that resulted in reporting across academic and students affairs and more faculty involvement. This form of collaboration is typical at Innovative Regional. Student affairs offices and academic staff often work in collaboration and are likely to formally or informally share human



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resources across units. While relations between faculty and staff are generally positive, the interactions between faculty and staff are fairly limited. Faculty are often either working on research projects or engaging with the community. Very few faculty work within student affairs or with the liberal arts programs outside of their teaching responsibilities. Innovative Regional University may have a culture of innovation, but this is true only as long as the activities adhere to the university hier­archy. While some faculty and staff believed that a new presidential initiative to stimulate innovation was part of a long culture of change, others, particularly those individuals who have worked at the university for several decades, believed that university is “innovative for the sake of being innovative.” They saw a privileging of programs, initiatives, and centers that simply used the word innovation but a lack of support for ideas that would require organizational change. Initiatives that fell under the interests of the administration or seek administrative approval often received funds, while other more grassroots work did not. In addition, grassroots activism and direct challenges to the campus administration appeared to fall outside the definition of innovation on this campus and were actively discouraged by campus administration; faculty and staff believed that their work required sanctioning by the administration to move forward. For this reason, grassroots efforts at Innovative Regional University were mostly formalized, having gone through the meeting of the bottom up and top down. Initiatives included service learning, a poetry conference, restructuring of departments, creation of interdisciplinary centers, establishment of an honors program, and the restructuring of orientation. Rarely were initiatives discussed that did not, at some point, engage the administration and support. Many of the initiatives began as grassroots movements but were more diffuse and formalized during the case study. The current climate of the college had been negatively affected by the state budget issues, which had forced the college to cut back on spending, reducing the ability to fund innovative practices and programs. Almost Untempered Polytechnic Institute Hierarchy, bureaucracy, and occasionally disrupted status quo were the words and phrases most used to describe this former technical institute. “Committee work,” “very formal,” “chain of command,” “powerful deans and chairs,” and “I cannot e-mail a vice president on this campus” were also repeated by all participants. Everyone spoke about the power the administration held that controlled resources and decision making and seemed closed off to other groups. Most people thought of

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change as happening only through a chain of command and were mostly unaware of grassroots activities. Because of its history of being an institution focused on the sciences and engineering, the campus had usually served white male students through white male faculty, so the change to a diverse campus with female and nonwhite faculty, staff, and students has been a cultural shift in the last few decades. The campus serves 30,000 largely commuter students and still has a strong emphasis on programs of applied learning. It has a history of authoritative leadership and has experienced difficulty with two presidents who have not fit that authoritative mold. Staff mentioned feeling “absolutely invisible,” and faculty worried about their rights, maybe more than about teaching and learning. Faculty and staff were unionized, and this sharply affected the campus and how it operated; most faculty and staff felt the union had protected them and been an asset, allowing them to speak out and be change agents. A pocket of faculty and staff felt the union led to mediocrity and stifled innovation; these tended to be faculty and staff deeply committed to students and change. There were deep divides among groups on campus: Faculty and staff largely distrusted the administration, the staff were invisible to faculty, and administrators demonized the faculty. Employees spoke about the campus as “fractionalized.” One faculty member noted that the campus has many different constituencies, with different goals and interests, making it hard to come together on issues. This fractionalized feeling could also been seen in the responses of some employees. Some did believe the campus to be collaborative and to value learning, while others felt it was fragmented and that learning was not a priority. Union newsletters poked fun at the administration, sometimes in biting ways. Faculty reacted this way to the administration out of a general sense of disempowerment and care and concern for the direction of the campus. People interviewed described the very racially and economically diverse students in very different ways, which suggested several different subcultures. Some were noted as apathetic and part of the millennial generation—focused on themselves—while others were described as busy with full lives or consumerists, and still other students as very engaged with campus politics. Faculty and staff noted the difficulty of engendering activism within a largely commuter student body. While people were not able to readily describe change on campus, they acknowledged, with reflection, that the institution had undergone dramatic changes. In the 1970s, the campus had a largely white male faculty and administration, a different curriculum, a stronger union, and so on. Although many people commented that changes have occurred, many felt these happened unintentionally and/or were externally



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imposed. There appeared to be no intentionality or planning. Faculty and staff felt they were not included and were also apathetic in actually charting its course, and the campus merely responded to issues. Change was seen as environmental—largely coming to the campus. The notion of status quo emerged as a controlling feature on campus. New employees were constantly reminded that “that is not how we do it here” to any proposed change. This culture of status quo frustrated grassroots leaders who were tired of maintaining the status quo without data supporting traditional methods. Perhaps as a result of this frustration among new employees, turnover was rampant. Grassroots activity seemed to be very uncoordinated and happening among two different groups: long-time faculty and new staff. Longtime faculty came in the 1970s and had been involved in civil rights and the women’s movements, and this identity had characterized their work at the polytech. Faculty techniques were fairly direct and perhaps abrasive at times. They had worked for the rights of faculty, staff, welfare students, undocumented students, and women: diversity, child care, and against sexual harassment and the like. Old-time activists felt disappointed that new faculty were not picking up this activist work. While other campuses in our study had faculty lead teaching and learning efforts, these did not characterize this campus. Most teaching and learning innovations were top down from the administration and met with resistance. For example, the first year experience program and assessment were all imposed by the administration. But some non–tenure track faculty members seemed to be taking a leadership role in campus teaching and learning, and the old-time activists noticed this emerging leadership. Many new staff arrived excited and wanted to make changes to the teaching and learning environment—they were eager to help students. While other grassroots leaders existed, these were the two major groups that kept the grassroots pulse going. But what will happen when these faculty retire and if new employees are not kept with the constant turnover? Grassroots activities seem tenuous at best in the future. Hidden Tempered Radicals College Walking across the expansive lawns, looking up at the brick structures with the names of wealthy sponsors, and watching traditional-aged students mill about talking about exams, summer travel, and world affairs would be your first glimpse of this liberal arts college. It took a long time for some faculty and staff at this well-endowed college to realize that grassroots leadership characterized the work of many members of this very collegial liberal arts campus. Faculty and administrators

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­ elieved that they had, for the most part, worked in partnership and b made changes together throughout the history of the campus. Ideas for change emerged among the groups in their joint forums. Their culture suggested this collaboration and was what many faculty and the administration believed. But there were many faculty and staff who knew a very different history. Their history was one of progressive faculty who strategically brought ideas forward that the administration believed they had developed, of students who demonstrated based on more radical faculty ideas to create dramatic changes, and staff who had worked for a series of changes. Progressive faculty and staff had worked to improve campus diversity, staff equity, environmentalism, campus and community partnerships, and more recently faculty governance, which some felt was beginning to deteriorate. This campus served 1,200 very ambitious and smart students; the graduates made up an alumni network that had given back richly to the campus. The student culture was mixed with some very politically and socially engaged students and some others focused on study, but because they were all residential they were on campus and could be a major source of influence. Custodial and clerical staff described feeling isolated and invisible. For thirty years they had been trying to achieve greater equity, and the administration had met them with great resistance, working hard to ensure they did not unionize. Administration controlled their ability to even meet. Other staff had mixed feelings. Depending on the administrator or faculty member they worked with, their conditions and experience varied. The faculty had a great deal of power and influence but had also been very conservative and largely white and upper middle class, so a great majority of the faculty met ideas such as feminism, environmentalism, or multiculturalism with resistance. On other campuses we studied, the faculty were often fighting the resistance from the administration. However, at this liberal arts college, the resistance often came from faculty colleagues. The new president followed a well-respected president; in fact, the faculty had generally respected the formal leadership and administration, not the case with custodial and secretarial staff who had been increasingly abused by each successive administration. The culture was intellectual and serious. Faculty lived their research and thought about their teaching night and day. Students were grouped around campus in serious debate, but there were no students playing, laughing, or doing sports. The administrators were typically faculty who had come up through the ranks, so they understood the rigors of the classroom and culture they were trying to achieve. Grassroots leadership was cyclical on this campus, and they were cycling into a more robust and energetic period. In the 1970s, a group of



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women energized the campus with feminism and community outreach, and in the late 1980s newly arrived faculty of color organized around multiculturalism (students of different racial and ethnic backgrounds, gay rights, and different religions). In the 1990s, environmentalism emerged, and in the last decade there has been more focus on gay and lesbian rights, staff equity, campus and community partnerships, service learning, anticommercialization, and most recently faculty governance. Faculty felt that they were being consulted less than in the past. Perhaps the longtime lore that faculty had a partnership with the administration was breaking apart? The new president had plans that might commercialize the campus further, bring in more students, and change the multi­cultural emphasis; all these plans came without faculty input. Hidden Tempered Radicals College was once again in the throes of faculty and staff leadership—exciting times lie ahead. conclusion This chapter introduced the reader to the major assumptions and methodology for the study and provided an overview of the campus environments. We argue for the importance of case study methodology and of hearing the voices of faculty and staff grassroots leaders, hopefully persuading the reader that these voices can provide important insight into the strategies, obstacles, and experiences of grassroots leaders. With this background provided, we now present our data about grassroots leadership.

chapter four

Meet the Grassroots Leaders

; In this chapter, we highlight the journey of six grassroots leaders with a focus on: (1) the reasons they were involved in grassroots leadership; (2) their involvement with specific initiatives; (3) the way their identities shaped their activities; (4) their approach to activities as grassroots leaders; (5) the ways they negotiated obstacles and power dynamics; and (6) their methods for staying resilient in the face of obstacles. The six narratives that follow represent the diversity in initiatives of grassroots leaders, the various institutional types (community colleges, liberal arts universities, and research universities), and positions (different types of staff and faculty). The grassroots change initiatives differed tremendously: campus diversification; innovative pedagogies, such as service or collaborative learning; campus and community partnerships to support community interests; religion and faith on campus; child care centers and more flexible work conditions; environmentalism and sustainability; and equity for certain groups, such as janitorial staff or immigrants. As a reminder, grassroots leaders were identified because they had been noted by a range of people for having made significant changes on campus or for being attached to a specific bottom-up change effort. Furthermore, they fit our definition of leadership in Chapter One of people without formal authority, operating from the bottom up, to create change. These narratives were developed from triangulating sources of data but rely heavily on the interview data. The analysis draws on both individual interviews and also on analysis across interviews, looking at trends in motivation, identity, tactics, obstacles, and resiliency. The particular stories were chosen because they represent trends we saw across the 165 interviews. The specific grassroots leaders discussed in the following pages represent a range of grassroots leaders in higher education. They were chosen

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because each narrative provides a snapshot of the reasons they pursue change: the path to the initiatives, individual experiences influencing how grassroots leaders approach change, and their experience and lessons over time. In this chapter, we use the narratives to highlight the areas of motivation and identity in our model of grassroots leadership. Within each narrative is a visual representation of the different motivators and parts of the leaders’ identities that affected or shaped their grassroots efforts. Other chapters will provide more detail on other concepts such as strategy, tactics, or obstacles; these concepts are only introduced here. This chapter presents just a few of the remarkable individuals who go beyond their roles and positions to help create change in higher education. Yet we remind you that, although this chapter highlights individuals and focuses on more individual qualities like motivation, our overarching framework connects individuals, groups, and organizational phenomena. In this chapter, we simply foreground some of the individual concepts. n a r r at i v e s of g r a ssroo t s l e a de r s Neeta: Chemistry Professor at a Liberal Arts University Neeta, an East Indian female scientist at Hidden Tempered Radicals College, has worked tirelessly to create programs and initiatives to make students of color successful. Over the course of the last ten years, she has mentored dozens of students of color in the STEM disciplines and has become known regionally and nationally as a mentor in this area. People across campus talked about how she has changed the nature of the way classes are taught in STEM, particularly the gatekeeping courses. She was initially a postdoctoral researcher in the chemistry department with little connection to teaching or students. Originally, Neeta was not interested in becoming an academic; she was satisfied in her role as a research associate, working for a distinguished faculty member in the sciences. After her mentor actively encouraged her to apply, she was hired in a faculty position at the associate professor level. Immediately, Neeta became involved in several formal committees, as was the standard at the time of her appointment to associate professor. All faculty at Hidden Tempered Radicals College are required to serve on several committees each year. Her first committee involvement was the diversity committee, likely because the other faculty in her department were white males. Exposure to diversity issues while serving on this committee actively shaped her activism agenda for the next decade. She explains:



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Actually, one of the first committees I was on was the diversity committee, with people who had been here a long time, so I learned from them and came to learn the issues really fast, I think, from those members, so I enjoy the committee work, and I eventually got onto a lot of different committees.

Neeta began working on the committee for functional or instrumental reasons—to fulfill her service role as a faculty person. She enjoyed the interaction and camaraderie of committee work and learned a great deal about diversity, as well as other subjects. Subsequent committees on teaching and learning also shaped her agenda. Her observations of student success and behavior in the classroom reinforced what she learned while serving on the diversity committee. As the instructor for one of the major science survey courses, organic chemistry, she witnessed students of color struggling to pass the course and enter the science majors. She noticed: I mean that we would have with general chemistry, a tough course, and we would lose a lot of students of color who didn’t do very well. On the other hand, you get the Asian kids who do very well. I teach organic, so we hardly get a few, maybe a handful, by the time they got to organic because most of them would drop by the wayside, I think. So that’s always been a big concern of mine. I wish we could do more for these kids. Most of them are very bright. I’ve seen them in other courses and see them in other places . . . and they were very articulate, they were very bright and did well, so I’d always wonder why we couldn’t have these students taking the science route.

Neeta’s early experiences on the diversity committees motivated her interest in grassroots activism. Unlike other grassroots leaders discussed later in this chapter, Neeta did not report that her racial/ethnic and gender identity shaped her grassroots activities. Rather, Neeta’s exposure to data on the demographics of the student population and other measures showing the lack of diversity on campus motivated her activities. To understand the reasons for a lack of student success and to develop solutions, Neeta engaged her department in discussion around curricular change. With financial assistance from the National Science Foundation (NSF) and support from the department, several faculty in the chemistry department began to experiment with alternative pedagogies, focusing on smaller classes and using experiential learning. For example, one of the other faculty began teaching a small class of students who did not do well on the placement exam. In this class, the faculty member focused on problem-solving and math skills that serve as foundational knowledge in chemistry. Neeta also mentored students in a campuswide program that brought inner city youth to the liberal arts campus. Her involvement was high

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touch—she was actively involved in the educational and social experiences of her mentees. She derived her perspective on student success from a belief in the success of assisting students on an individual level. She noted: I think it was just close interaction. One thing with us, we have an open-door policy and close interaction with professors, and they could come in and ask questions, and you problem solve with them, show them how to work through the problem, how to think through it. I think it really helps.

In addition, Neeta extended her focus on teaching and learning in her research. As a successful grant writer, Neeta has consistently had multimillion dollar research projects for which she has hired postdoctoral researchers as well as undergraduate students. She explained, “To go back to the research thing, research is supposed to be a good way of targeting students, and getting them excited about it and bringing them to the lab, so I think that’s been good.” Neeta’s success as a grassroots leader has advanced primarily from her skills as a research scientist, particularly in seeking external grants. Neeta has found that her success in research and grant seeking has protected her from facing any resistance for her efforts. She explained how she avoided resistance: I don’t think you face that because in terms of research you’ve got to establish your credibility first, and when they see—I mean, if somebody’s not doing research and suddenly starts talking about diversity and inclusion, I think that would be a hard sell. It’s not difficult for me because I’m coming from a very strong place. I think that’s why I also was hired into Liberal Arts College, because I had done researching for ten years, a very strong publication record, and you’re coming with that credibility and high esteem in the external science community in the rest of the country. I think your job is a little easier. So they listen.

Neeta has maintained an active research agenda and has consistently acquired large grants from several federal agencies. Her success has given her credibility within her department, and in the university she has leveraged that credibility to her advantage in the context of her grassroots efforts. Gaining legitimacy and power through grant seeking and publishing is a common practice among faculty grassroots leaders who recognize that, in a climate of academic capitalism, institutions value productivity. Neeta’s active strategy of using productivity to gain legitimacy in the college helped her move initiatives forward and shielded her from feeling powerless within the institution. When asked about obstacles, resistance, and power, she simply recommended: “Get more feedback.”



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Neeta has learned to circumvent power by reframing the issue and politicking for more support across the campus. The fact that Neeta did not face power dynamics that prevented her success does not preclude a need to find a source of resiliency. Many of the efforts of grassroots leaders require long time frames and extra work outside their typical work responsibilities. Neeta’s initiatives required her to work beyond her role as a faculty person. When asked about ways that she maintained resiliency, she explained, “At the end of the day, you might sit back and think, ‘OK, I have $1.8 million dollars in funding,’ or whatever, and that doesn’t mean anything to you. But at the end of the day, when I see the students graduate, that will make my day.” For Neeta, her source of strength and her desire to move forward came from the success of the students whom she has advised and helped through the tough chemistry curriculum. Furthermore, as a chemist who focuses on the designing of pharmaceuticals, she collaborated with faculty in other fields—such as biology— important to her research, to grant seeking, and to grassroots leadership. She explained how she had learned to value interdisciplinarity, which has been promoted by federal funding agencies, for example, the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the NSF: Well, we may hate to admit it, but a lot of the grant-funding agencies have been pushing that. “We don’t want to do this, and blah blah blah. I’m going to go change my research to fit whatever they want,” but then when you really start sitting down with a bunch of colleagues in the room and start talking, you find out, “Maybe I have a lot in common, and maybe we could work really well together,” and that’s happened. I’m happy to encourage that.

Through her interdisciplinary work she has met people across campus and formed a strong network with colleagues in various departments. These different individuals can be called on as allies for her grassroots work. Recent changes in the field of science, particularly promoted by the NSF, have also influenced her work as a grassroots leader. Over the last few decades, the NSF has created initiatives to promote access and retention for women and minorities in the sciences. These initiatives have made scientists more aware of issues for women and students of color, the same topics that have served as Neeta’s major initiatives as a chemistry instructor. Neeta used these external messages from groups such as NSF to promote her work and actively kept connected to NSF initiatives for women and students of color in the sciences. We illustrate aspects of how her identity and her motivation shaped her grassroots leadership in Figure 4.1.

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Motivation

Identity

• Participation on diversity committee and exposure to data on student demographics and success created awareness of inequities • Students of color struggling in her courses

• Research scientist • Successful grant writer

Figure 4.1.  Neeta’s sources of motivation and identity.

Kevin: Asian Studies Professor at a Community College Kevin was a professor (and former contingent faculty member) and department chair of Asian Studies at a suburban community college who had worked to create a citizenship and leadership program as well as supporting first-generation college students and diversity efforts on campus. Having worked at the college for over fifteen years and served in various political roles in the surrounding community, Kevin had enjoyed a successful career with many examples of grassroots leadership initiatives. People on campus noted that the leadership program he created for the college had become a national model and was being replicated at other campuses. The community also appreciated and respected that the leadership program had created a series of local leaders. Kevin also understood that the college had increasing numbers of first-generation college students—often from diverse racial backgrounds—who needed additional support, and he was known for supporting the diversity efforts on campus in various ways from helping to change the curriculum, to creating support programs and helping develop the campus student success center. His immigration from China to the United States thirty years ago at the age of eighteen motivated much of Kevin’s grassroots activities. When he came to the United States, lack of civic engagement by Asian



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Americans surprised him. He explained, “My fields are education and Asian American Studies. I feel that Asian American is one of those ethnic groups that has not been able to participate in a meaningful way or substantial way historically, even though we have been here for a long time.” Kevin was one of the grassroots leaders whose identity actively shaped his activities. As an Asian American man, he devoted his career to serving as a role model for other Asian Americans and helped create opportunities for young people to get involved in civic positions and change-related activities. Simply, he saw a need to promote civic engagement and used his political influence to fill this need. Many of Kevin’s activities as a grassroots leader within higher education came from his experiences while serving in public office. The list of Kevin’s political appointments included board member of local community organizations, member of the school board, president of the school board, almost a decade on the city council, and mayor of the city for two terms. While serving in these roles, he became aware of the immensity of state and local bureaucracies and of the skills required to be successful in public office; he became aware of the social capital necessary to promote Asian Americans in civic office. He explained: When I was serving on the local elective office, I realized how decentralized lots and lots of offices are around the United States . . . I am a teacher and educator, and the way I can contribute to this is to create a vehicle for education to train people who are interested in civic involvement and get them involved.

One of the many programs that Kevin had created is a student leadership program for Asian Americans. The leadership program was administered through an academic division at the college, providing education and networking programs for youth leaders. The leadership program worked with the local communities to seek internship opportunities and recruits students from both high school and college. In many ways, the leadership program was a community-based initiative and not just a campus program. In addition to the leadership program, Kevin had promoted diversity initiatives, student engagement within the community college, the hiring of faculty and staff of color, and civic and community engagement off campus. The interplay among Kevin’s experiences in public office, his role as an educator, and his racial and ethnic identity was most apparent in the way he approached grassroots change. Kevin viewed change as a process of developing relationships and networking. While Kevin appeared to work as an individual, many of his initiatives relied on relationships and groups. Relationships were the foundation for how Kevin approached his work. He stated, “If you build relationships, you can make changes

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happen.” As mayor and a faculty member, Kevin reported substantial success by focusing on the “human element.” He capitalized on support from others to leverage collective power and resources to effect change. Kevin created relationships to build a network when starting a new initiative. The networks were particularly important for generating new ideas, identifying individuals with skill sets that could be used in the change initiative, and brainstorming obstacles. He stated, “Information and skill sets are shared informally in networks, so it is critical to become a part of them. When people don’t know how to do it, they can at least talk about their needs to others in the group. And the group is a support system.” Kevin’s notion of power was similar to Neeta’s; he did not conceive of power as an impediment. By building relationships, he felt that he could accomplish his goals without having to face any stumbling blocks. Another skill that Kevin used as a change agent and as an educator was the ability to navigate bureaucracies and understand the limitations of change within large-scale bureaucracies. Rather than relying solely on one organization as a vehicle for change, he recognized that sometimes it was necessary to work outside an institution to create change. For example, Kevin did not ask the community college to fund his leadership institute because funds flow too slowly. He explained: I never went that route in asking the college for too many resources, and there is a reason I did it—it takes more time to work for the college. Some people are more active outside the campus because outside the process is faster. I could get funds from the community more quickly than on campus, I think.

The reliance on community-based funding also provided Kevin’s autonomy and some degree of power. For example, his respect in the community as a former mayor afforded him many opportunities to capitalize on his networks to increase funding quickly and without the intervention of the college bureaucracy. In addition to relationships, Kevin acknowledged the legitimacy and power from his roles outside the institution as mayor and community organizer. He explained, “I was the faculty that was also the mayor, so most people do know me, and I think it does result in more willingness to look at the [leadership] program to see if it’s viable or not, and then people are willing to help according to their ability.” Kevin was a department chair and tenured professor at the college who also had worked on many different initiatives, including hiring faculty of color, supporting the bringing of more multiculturalism to the curriculum, and civic and community engagement. His reach was vast and, partly because he was a community figure, he was a representative not



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Individual

Motivation

Identity

• Experience immigrating to the United States • Seeing a need for more Asian Americans involved in civic affairs

• Asian American community leader and activist • Mayor of the city • Faculty member

Figure 4.2.  Kevin’s sources of motivation and identity.

just of the college but also of community needs. Moreover, his standing allowed him access to networks and other groups—connections that those within the college found valuable, particularly in a community college that served local community interests. Resiliency was also drawn from these relationships that he found to be rewarding and beneficial. Kevin’s story may seem unique because he served in a highly visible and political role in the community. Yet many of the grassroots leaders in our study were community activists, beginning much of their activist work in the community and not in higher education. Kevin’s experiences illustrate the power, relationships, skills, and knowledge that are gained from the interplay between activist work inside and outside academe. We illustrate aspects of how his identity and his motivation shaped his grassroots leadership in Figure 4.2. Jane: Academic Affairs Professional at a Polytech Institute The next grassroots leader we discuss is Jane, who had made significant changes related to sexual harassment; gender and lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered issues; and interfaith issues. For the last few decades, Jane had worked in student affairs as a director of a women’s, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered center at Almost Untempered Polytech

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Institute. She worked as the sole staff person on all issues related to gender and sexuality, including counseling victims of sexual assault. As the first director of the women’s center, Jane spent many years building the center and establishing administrative support. People noted that Jane made people across campus aware of issues of gender and sexuality and suggested she had changed the culture and collective consciousness of campus—no small feat. While other grassroots leaders’ work resulted in new programs and initiatives, Jane was known for having changed the feel of campus in appreciating and respecting concerns related to gender and sexuality. Her career took a different turn a few years ago when she moved to academic affairs within the university religious life department, soon after she received a doctoral degree in ethics. She was also making her mark within this area, and people commented that a shift was beginning to take place in the way people saw religion as a diversity issue and one that people at the college needed to pay attention to. The reasons for Jane’s work around gender issues and religion were very much rooted in her previous experiences and in her identity as a lesbian who has been deeply connected to her spiritual beliefs. She had a profound and deep connection with her generation’s struggles in the feminist movement. Jane was born in the 1950s and had witnessed “phenomenal changes for women.” She believed that people can make a difference in the lives of others and viewed societal changes around women’s and gay and lesbian issues as proof of the potential for change. Jane also believed strongly in the priesthood and experienced from a young age the connection between gender discrimination and religion. She noted, “I was seven years old when I said I wanted to be a priest when I grew up, and, of course, as a little girl they all laughed at me because little girls couldn’t be priests in those days.” After decades of struggle with the church and experiencing what she termed “institutional sexism,” she eventually became an ordained priestess. The connection between her experiences, gender (identity), and a need to create change within institutions is best summarized in her description: It was partly the experience of being a woman seeking ordination that caused me to say advocacy for women has got to be what my life is about and much after I really came to understand the connection between major institutions, like church or temple, demeaning women and the epidemic violence against women, and the inability of religious voice to confront those matters. So I was already involved in some degree in that before I got involved in student affairs.

Jane’s initiatives were diverse, but all focused around issues of gender and sexuality. She had been involved in rallying for domestic partner



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benefits, treatment of sexual orientation issues within the university, and raising awareness around religion. More specifically, she worked to revamp the university’s “Take Back the Night” campaign and worked toward the development of policies for transgendered students. At the time of our interviews, Jane focused primarily on interfaith activities. She explained her current work related to religion: What I do now is working with students of many different faith traditions around raising their awareness about what it means to live in a world in which religion is constantly in the news for its interaction with politics, and all of these things where if you are not educated about religion, you are really not going to be an effective global citizen.

Even in her work in interfaith activity, she struggled to address genderbased discrimination in doctrine and scriptures while challenging her own religious tradition to accept women into priesthood. One of the initiatives that Jane had recently developed in her role in religious life was a student retreat. The initiative was based on the belief that “we must learn to understand other religious traditions and other world views in order to work for a world that has any chance of surviving” and “if we don’t have those encounters when we’re young, then we’ve missed an opportunity.” More than 100 students from across the country from different religions were brought together to discuss religious beliefs, experiences, and to share across different faiths. The program had been successful over the last few years with the intention of continuing. Most of her work, including the interfaith activities, was done in groups. Jane explained her reliance on groups: So the groups, the relationships in that sense, I think, are absolutely key because they literally give us the courage to do what we must do, the sense that if we don’t make it in the act of taking some bold action there are others who will pick it up and go on. It makes it all worth it, it makes you part of the web, the cycle of life, in a whole different way, I think.

Jane, as a staff person, had experienced power within two hierarchical organizations—a university and the church. In the context of the university, Jane had been concerned about losing her job on several occasions and thus consulted with her supervisors about how to move forward certain initiatives and maintain her employment. As a member of a church, she explained the power that she had encountered: The context in which I’ve experienced it [power] has largely been in the church, in religious environments, in the sense of the exclusion of women and the determination of powerful men to keep women out of their field. There were many

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times that my job has been on the line where people were pressuring to get rid of me, letting me know I did not belong. It was unbelievably painful and humiliating, and it made me angry.

But facing power conditions did not deter Jane—at the time of our interviews, she was a priest in the church and had had many successes in working toward gender equity and interfaith activities on a college campus. However, to continue on in the face of these power conditions and resistance, she had developed extensive ways to maintain her resiliency. Jane explained her source of resiliency: So circles of women, a lot of things I’ve cared most about, whether it’s based or connected with the abuse of women or whatever, can be gender focused, and probably always will be for me. My own spiritual leanings are very women focused now, in that my history and roots are in the Episcopal Church, my deep connections are with women’s spirituality and all those kinds of things, and so the circles of women are the crucial support piece, and it’s where the vision is kept alive. If I have a doubting period or season or whatever, then it’s the circle that holds the vision. I would do the same, to hold the vision for others, when they are struggling, so there’s this sense of huge connectedness in that.

As already noted, Jane often worked within groups to create change. This group approach had much to do with her reliance on a circle of women for support, and having the group hold the vision was a source of resiliency. Jane’s belief in student development and her long-term experiences with change characterized her approach to grassroots leadership. With undergraduates, Jane believed that one can effect change more easily. She noted, “They [undergraduates] are in a development stage where they are doing a lot of thinking. As opposed to graduate students who are working on dissertations and typically have other life responsibilities (family and the like), undergraduates are more often involved and in a psychological stage that makes them nimble and ready to challenge their ideas.” This belief had maintained Jane’s commitment to university life and to helping promote change with individual students. Furthermore, her desire to change universities to be more equitable was partially motivated by the need to provide a safe environment for the same undergraduates whom she engaged. Jane’s decades of struggle to become a priest and on gender-based work in universities had provided a patient approach toward change. She viewed change as a long-term process with little attention to obstacles. She explained, “I am not one who lets obstacles get in the way. I will flatter, I will do whatever I need to do to try and meld whatever is in the way.” The domestic partner benefits were very difficult to pass



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Individual

Motivation

Identity

• Experiences with gender discrimination in the church; arguing to become a priest • Experience with gender discrimination in the university

• Gay woman • Ordained priest

Figure 4.3.  Jane’s sources of motivation and identity.

through the administration; she had to wait for a change in leadership as well as increased external pressure. Faculty and staff used the introduction of domestic partner benefits at other competitive universities as a way to shame the university into adopting similar policies. Her experiences also provided knowledge of political strategies to persuade and circumvent obstacle in universities. Educating her colleagues, shaming the university, and providing opportunities for student engagement were just a few of the tactics that Jane had used to overcome obstacles. We illustrate aspects of how her identity and her motivation shaped her grassroots leadership in Figure 4.3. Mike: Athletics Administration at a Research University Mike was an associate athletic director for Disconnected Tempered Radical University. His involvement in grassroots initiatives stemmed from his identity as an African American man, as a former student athlete, and as a role model for student athletes. Mike promoted the development of student athletes, helping the university to see its educational responsibility and encouraging student athletes to see themselves as students, not just athletes. Mike believed that college athletics is primarily geared toward making athletes successful on the playing field and not in the classroom. He noted:

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I think that we need to focus more on student athlete welfare issues. I think we need to think through to redefine success. We need to redefine roles as coaches and athletic administrators. I think we need to reset our expectations for student athletes beyond success on the field or on the court and even beyond academic and promote more of a holistic approach towards building student athletes.

His own background as a student athlete made this issue very close to his own identity and experience. He could draw on his own experience to help shape and understand the issues he was working to change. His doctoral experience shaped his intellectual curiosity motivating him. In fact, his doctoral education shaped his approach to grassroots leadership in many ways. Mike explained his drive to understand leadership: “I think for my job I had to do it, but I also think that I’m intrigued by what other people do. You know, I am intrigued with research, with leadership, what makes people tick.” Mike obtained his doctoral degree in education, a few years earlier, when he began to frame his research interest and personal philosophy of leadership. He believed in supporting inclusiveness of ideas. He explained: I think it’s important for me to understand that not everyone is going to be on board, that, you know, that my ideas and my philosophy, that it takes different perspectives. It is about different outlooks, different perspectives, and finding a way to link the change.

His commitment to leadership was grounded in a personal philosophy of leadership that demands openness and inclusion that requires a strong personality and confidence. He explained, “I have a strong personality and a strong belief in the development of not only student athletes but students. I think I would be characterized as, you know, a leader, but a leader that’s open to ideas, opinions. A person who understands how to get the most out of different types of people.” His most recent initiative at the time of our interviews was a mentorship program for student athletes to achieve the goal of developing athletes beyond the playing field. The program would be geared for student athletes and focus on self-exploration, to help them understand who they are. Mike explained, “I think if a student understands who they are and understands their strengths and their weaknesses then they’ll become better students, even better athletes and better people.” What helped to get buy-in for implementation is that the program did not cost anything. Mike would do the curriculum, work with the students, and partner with other mentorship programs to assist with programming. Mike had many other ideas for improving the experiences, engagement, and development of student athletes. For example, he was interested in organizing a group of student athletes to serve as an admissions



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committee. The committee of students would help admissions officers review student athlete applications and draw informed conclusions that are devoid of stereotypes about student athletes, particularly students of color. He also saw this initiative as a way to bridge the gap between athletics and other departments on campus. Another idea was to revise the orientation for student athletes, to improve their understanding of the university outside the athletic department. This orientation would specifically target black male athletes and would be hosted by nonathletic staff. Student athletes would have an opportunity to see other ways to get engaged outside of athletics and be exposed to others who could mentor them. Mike typically worked alone during the initial stages of his initiatives. Later, when he needed support, he assembled groups to do the actual work of the initiative. Similar to Jane, Mike’s role as a staff person makes him more vulnerable to the institutional hierarchy. He experienced a top-down management style and had to develop strategies to overcome his lack of formal power. He tried to create allies of individuals who were in positions of authority. For example, Mike persuaded a powerful coach to provide more support services for black male athletes by using an article he found on the challenges these student athletes face. He explained how he showed the coach the article to push forward an initiative: “So, I jumped on it and went to [the coach], and he read the article. He was alarmed, and we got his buy-in. So, now some one with formal power was brought in.” Mike also mentioned the use of data and networks to gain collective power in his initiatives. The reason Mike worked toward grassroots efforts around improving the experiences of student athletes was very much tied to his passion for and commitment to students of color, specifically black male student athletes, and to his racial and ethnic identity. In a discussion of what kept him resilient, Mike passionately noted: The reason I want to become an athletic director is because if you think about the black parents who are encouraging young black men, young black women, more so “just play sports” and not participation in the sports for just the spirit of competition, but to make it out of the ghetto . . . So, what’s happening is that you have tons of black males who are being funneled into higher education and participating in athletics as a way to get out of the ghetto and to change their lives. But what’s happening is, it’s sort of like they are jumping on this train to higher education and they are missing a lot of stops.

He continued: Because they don’t know within themselves that they should make that stop (to learn) and why they make that stop, and there’s many reasons why that is. If

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you have overrepresentation of black males in athletics and underrepresentation of black males in higher education, that’s an issue.

The passion that exuded from Mike is obvious sitting next to him, listening to his personal philosophy in leadership, his commitments to student athletes, and his feeling of responsibility for helping those student athletes of color that he mentored, student who are similar to him. His passion and source of resiliency were one and the same. He used the passion to be a change agent and, in turn, relied on that passion to keep him moving forward. He explained: Because I think that every day, I have impact on student athletes’ lives, particularly minority kids—males. Every day because I’m visible, they know what I do. They know that I’m concerned for their well-being. I serve as a mentor. I serve as a big brother. I wear so many different hats, and that’s one of my primary goals every day is to impact their lives, impact somebody’s life every day.

Mike was another grassroots leader who had strategically placed himself in a role where he could make a difference. Much like Kevin, who worked in political office to gain influence and garner support for the development of the leadership institute, Mike had placed himself in a role where he was visible and available for student athletes of color. We illustrate aspects of how his identity and his motivation shaped his grassroots leadership in Figure 4.4.

Individual

Motivation

• Intellectual curiosity that began as a doctoral student • Commitment to inclusive leadership • Commitment to helping student athletes and students of color succeed after college

Identity

• African American man • Former student athlete • Role model for other student athletes of color

Figure 4.4.  Mike’s sources of motivation and identity.



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Kathleen: Faculty at a Community College Kathleen was a full-time faculty member at Activist Community College and had worked steadily to develop environmental awareness; an environmental program, center, and curriculum; and a sustainability plan on campus. Her focus on environmentalism began several decades ago in college, where she studied to become a wildlife biologist. During her studies in tracking elk, she witnessed the need for more environmentally friendly practices. She decided to transition from doing research to teaching, with the goal of teaching environmental studies instead of biology, but found that environmental studies was not offered at many institutions of higher education. Kathleen’s interest in environmental studies derived from her experience in seeing the impact of climate change on elk migratory patterns, as well as her political and intellectual focus on climate issues. She explained: With climate change, we’ve got three to ten years to get back on track. It’s like the SS Titanic. We are driving this ship, and I can’t believe that other people can’t see it. So for me, it was not about me, it was about creating a world where we teach differently, students learn differently, and they are.

Not only was Kathleen influenced by her discipline of biology and her experiences in working with wildlife, she also practiced what she preached by living in a sustainable house and helping her husband build environmentally friendly homes in the community. Kathleen’s identity was closely connected to her values around sustainability. Kathleen’s main change initiatives centered on sustainability and environmental stewardship. Kathleen was the initial organizer and planner of the entire environmental studies academic program, starting as a part-time faculty person and eventually moving into a newly created full-time position. She used faculty governance to make incremental curricular changes and received external support to first create the academic program and then an endowed chair—all while off the tenure track. The program had five different degrees and certificates and integrated courses from across the curriculum, with a focus on experiential learning. The most recent successful initiative at the time of our meeting was an environmentally friendly building that housed the academic programs that student organizations had partially funded, upwards of $180,000. The building housed the stewardship resource center, faculty offices, and classrooms and sat next to a protected garden. The changes that Kathleen had helped initiate were far reaching. She was responsible for bringing sustainability as a vision and an academic program to the college.

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Kathleen’s approach to change was in her focus on teaching and learning. In all of her work, from introducing environmental studies to her courses to pushing for an environmental studies program, Kathleen maintained a steadfast commitment to student development. She noted, “The cool part is instruction belongs to faculty, and now my full focus is the students. I know what I’m doing is right, the team knows what we’re doing is right; they’re my full focus.” A commitment to teaching and learning was at the core of many of the grassroots leaders. Faculty traditionally have been responsible for curriculum, from the local department level to general studies curriculum. However, faculty grassroots leaders view their commitments as focused more on individual student development; they work toward integrating new curricular practices within their classrooms. Part of the reason may be due to the erosion of faculty participation in campus governance, where curricular decisions are generally handled. For Kathleen, she had placed students at the center of all of her efforts. She noted: The students were always a part of this, and we started a student program early on, where they’re in the class teaching with us, and you’ve got to really be open to them, and they help with all the classes, and it’s a program—that’s been twelve years ago.

Furthermore, Kathleen (similar to other faculty grassroots leaders) integrated experiential learning to engage students. Kathleen explained that she took a different approach to teaching by integrating an action project into an environmental studies class: We had a class that we created called Ten Effective Learning Strategies in Environmental Studies, and I taught it . . . so what we’ve created here is a model where students are the center, and we just say to them, “Here’s a project, take it and run with it,” and our job is to facilitate that. So we said to them, “OK, we’ve got ten years to open up movement quarters,” so we’re looking at wildlife quarters between the outer coastal range and the inner coastal range. How would animals move across those quarters? They have taken this baby, they are now part of the draft EIR work for the State, and they are in there doing data collection at a two-year level that will now influence the outcome of this project. It’s thrown this whole wrench into the [state] plan.

While Kathleen’s grassroots work was driven by an intense passion for environmentalism, she also understood the importance of being strategic and instrumental in her activities. Kathleen reluctantly entered the community college as a part-time biology instructor with the intent of questioning faculty in the sciences and of attempting to introduce environmental studies into the curriculum. As a part-time instructor, Kathleen did not have access to some of the traditional structures (for



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example, faculty governance) that supported faculty leadership. Instead, Kathleen created on-campus networks—meeting with faculty across campus who had an interest in the environment. Also, she became involved in the community, getting to know nonprofit and government agencies working on environmental issues. Later, the use of on- and off-campus networks would help to address power dynamics she faced. Establishing networks of faculty across the campus allowed her to gain support on curriculum committees and to begin to infuse environmentalism across the curriculum, such as in anthropology and sociology courses. After years off the tenure track, she moved to a tenure track position, and after several years she received tenure, which she felt helped her with having more influence and certainly made her feel she could be more vocal. Not only was she a dedicated full-time faculty member who legitimized environmental studies, she had many of the protections offered by tenure. She explained, “Once I got in the tenure track, I could push more. That was critical. That’s what tenure was created for. We all know that . . . As part-timer I had some impact, but once [I] got hired, and then I could start working visibly, actively team building. I don’t do it behind the scenes anymore. Then obtaining tenure moved the dial even further for making the changes I thought important.” In addition, Kathleen recognized other ways to complement her work within the college. Focusing on leadership outside the traditional structures of faculty power led to community involvement that would, at times, complement her work in the community college. In fact, she described how her work in the community helped her develop leadership skills she used on campus. Kathleen explained how her involvement in the local school board assisted in her leadership development: “So, I ran for school board. Our district was in trouble, so I served and I learned a lot about leadership. I went through the school board training. I just loved that stuff; I just love how schools and colleges run, so I can stay in a conversation with these people. I understood policy, and that helped me a lot.” Another important event in Kathleen’s framing of her grassroots leadership work was the support from external funders. Several private funders gave money to build a sustainable garden and eventually donated money to help build the environmental studies building. Tenure provided the necessary institutional protection from backlash, while funding from external sources legitimized her initiative and provided attention to the issue. Kathleen’s resiliency came from three major sources: her family, her internal optimism, and in the strength of others. Simply, Kathleen valued her family life: “My husband is my best friend. There’s that family team. I have three wonderful children. My oldest is in Belize studying

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Motivation

Identity

• Commitment to environmentalism • Focus on teaching and learning • Desire to create new generations of environmentalists

• Wildlife biologist • Community activist • Student-centered faculty member

Figure 4.5.  Kathleen’s sources of motivation and identity.

a rare eagle.” The dedication within her family to environmentalism was apparent in her husband’s profession of building sustainable homes and her children’s career choices in biology. For a person sitting next to Kathleen, her optimism was contagious. She jumped with excitement and was told that she always saw through “rose-colored glasses.” Finally, Kathleen had an opportunity to talk to several boys who escaped conflicts in the Sudan. Their stories of hardship encouraged Kathleen to continue her work and to see the resistance she faced on campus to environmentalism and sustainability in perspective; she did not face the threat of physical violence, for example. We illustrate aspects of how her identity and her motivation shaped her grassroots leadership in Figure 4.5. Veronica: Administrative Assistant Veronica was an administrative assistant at a liberal arts college where she had worked for the last twenty years. Her job began during a time when mimeograph machines were used for copying papers and a typewriter was common in an office. Over the years, she had adapted to new technology, had moved to several different academic departments, and had been privy to institutional changes. She had been dedicated to improving the work environment for staff on campus. Many staff received



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poor pay, few had benefits, and they were either ignored or treated with disrespect. Veronica was in a department that treated staff fairly, and she recognized that this fortune gave her both privilege and perhaps responsibility for others who did not have it so well. In particular, she had friends who were treated very poorly, and she empathized with their situation. She was motivated to create change because of the inequities that she witnessed and, of course, due to her own identity as a staff member. She always looked for opportunities to create change, particularly being relatively young and idealistic. One of those important opportunities in the institution’s history was an accreditation report that came out in the early 1990s. Veronica recalled that the report noted the university “did not have a culture of communication, and, as they talked to different constituencies around campus, they realized that people kept saying—that every department, every division was like its own little operation and didn’t coordinate well with other parts of the campus community. Staff had low morale, and this needed to be looked into.” In a response to the criticisms within the accreditation report, the institution created a task force to study the possibility of forming a staff organization. Veronica was extremely interested in the potential for a staff organization because, as she stated, “Of course, at that time, being relatively new, I was very optimistic about being able to change some things, and one of the big things I felt like was staff didn’t have a sense of identity because they were so isolated.” Veronica’s main activist work has been in creating and leading the staff council. She represented the academic staff in the initial task force that created the staff council. The task force surveyed all staff, interviewed staff on other campuses, benchmarked against competitor institutions, and wrote a report. Resistance to the staff council was rampant. According to various people on campus, the reason for resistance to the creation of a staff council was that the administrators believed that the group would become a collective bargaining unit, a union. Veronica explained how she was able to overcome the resistance: I have a couple of friends. We kind of pushed to get some things taken care of, and so at that time when they agreed to let us have staff council, it was made very clear to us that it was not to be a bargaining unit, it was not to be anything that represented something like a union, and so I think people were a little bit nervous about doing anything that they felt would upset the administration.

Despite the ambiguous role of the staff council, several initiatives emerged, including staff forums and luncheons. She noted, “We got together and did a lunch once a week, and there was really no agenda, it

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was just to meet and talk.” In addition, a staff picnic was organized. Veronica described it: The idea at the beginning was to give the staff a sense that they belonged here as a group, so we initiated the annual staff picnic at the end of the year, and we got the president to subsidize it financially, and it’s just after school’s over and graduation’s done.

Additionally, staff forums were created to be a place to ask questions of the university administration. The lack of influence of the staff council and the fear of losing one’s job, however, made the forums difficult places for open communication. Veronica explained: If they were having a problem or were uncomfortable about something, they [staff] didn’t want to bring that up, they are afraid because the administration does not like critical questions. But I still think people were happy to have that opportunity because most people have never sat with the president, have never sat and talked with these people, and so it was kind of nice to have them in a room, have them answering questions, even if they were very superficial, it was still that contact.

While the staff council is still in existence today, it has a difficult history. The administration, always fearing that the council is moving toward unionization, constantly challenges the council. At the time of our interviews, Veronica was working outside of a formal role on staff council, where she was active for ten years. She felt burned out and needed to rebuild her resiliency, so was stepping out of the limelight. However, because of Veronica’s role as chair of the staff council and her out­spoken attitude, she had become a confidant and advisor for many other staff members. Veronica had worked both in groups, as staff council member, and individually, as an advisor to particular staff. Specifically, she had helped individuals with grievances and regularly gave advice to housekeeping and summer staff. For example, she helped to organize a sick leave bank to give away unused sick days: One thing we wanted to do was—and this kind of stemmed from the fact that we have a housekeeper here who had been out on disability and ended up without sick days. So, we talked about the possibility of people donating sick days . . . Well, we even came up with a little ad hoc committee. They worked really hard; contacting different universities for data and stuff.

Veronica faced resistance from the human resources office while establishing the sick leave bank, but she was ultimately successful. A similar initiative concerned retirement benefits for staff. At the university, staff did not have access to the standard TIAA-CREF accounts that were



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offered to faculty. Veronica and several colleagues wrote a report to change the retirement plans. She explained: A friend of mine and I got online and, you know, the different colleges are compared in Newsweek top colleges. We thought let’s see what benefits they have, and everybody had TIAA-CREF. So, we’d get these little facts together, we’d send it over there [human resources], and it’s like, “Why is it that you want to compare yourself, and still we have this antiquated program, blah, blah, blah?” We go back and forth, and then all of a sudden, out of the blue, a couple of years ago, “We’re going to put everybody on TIAA-CREF,” and made it sound like it was their idea. They gave us no credit.

Veronica’s approach to change has been about empowerment, while acknowledging that the hierarchy exerted power over staff. She worked to empower staff, particularly those who are at the bottom of the institutional hierarchy, by providing voice and counsel. When asked if she was satisfied with her role as an advisor to other staff she reflected: My thing is to tell them, “Don’t be afraid. You have every right to say something. You don’t want to be rude or disrespectful,” but like I said, I’m a fiftyfour-year old woman. I have a right to talk to somebody over there as an adult, and they have a right, too. If there’s a problem, and they’re not addressing it, you have a right to go to somebody else. So, I guess when I was chair of staff council, I wanted to do something more substantial. I tried to convince people that—if people come to you and they have a problem, we can talk about it, or if we think that a certain issue needs to be addressed, we can talk to them.

At the time of our interviews, Veronica had taken a step back from her activist work. Twenty years of fighting for change had left her feeling weary of activist work; she had stepped back from staff council and was spending time working on resiliency. She noted: I just have kind of altered how I look at it. I have to focus on the benefits of working here, like I say, it’s close to home, it’s a beautiful campus, I have a lot of people that mean a lot to me that work here, my department’s great, enormous flexibility.

While Veronica had used incremental change and a series of important efforts to keep her resiliency in the past, she had started to change her ideas about resilience. Her thoughts had turned toward the positive aspects of her job and away from the discriminatory practices that once ­fueled her drive to work toward change. In a later chapter, we will discuss the challenges and ways that grassroots leaders stay resilient. Temporary respite from activist work and a renewed focus are common for grassroots leaders who work for several decades and face many

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Motivation

Identity

• Poor treatment of staff on campus • Desire to empower staff to advocate for their rights

• University staff member • Advisor to other staff

Figure 4.6.  Veronica’s sources of motivation and identity.

challenges. We illustrate aspects of how her identity and her motivation shaped her grassroots leadership in Figure 4.6. conclusion This chapter foreshadows the strategies used, the obstacles faced, the negotiation made with power, and the ways that grassroots leaders were resilient over time and in face of challenges. Each narrative describes the strategies in an educational context and how the grassroots leaders negotiated their desire for change within the cultures and specific practices of a higher education environment. Chapter Five describes in more detail those specific strategies. The grassroots leaders also encountered many obstacles, such the additional time requirements that were above and beyond their normal work expectations. Power conditions are conceptualized in complex ways among the grassroots leaders. While all of them acknowledged power, some of the leaders, such as Kevin and Neeta, did not find power conditions to be a barrier to change. Kevin’s conceptualization of power differed from that of Jane, Veronica, and Mike, who felt that their jobs were vulnerable; they felt a strong sense of hierarchy and vulnerability. We deconstruct the different ways that grassroots leaders negotiate power in Chapter



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Seven and the different conceptions of power and the implications of those conceptions in Chapter Eight. Finally, the narratives provide evidence of the ways that the grassroots leaders remained resilient in the face of many challenges and experienced costs or risks. All the grassroots leaders in our study found networks, friends, family, and places to regroup and find resiliency. They also experienced great costs; Jane and Veronica made the greatest sacrifices and incurred the most cost, with their jobs being on the line, losing out on promotions, experiencing severe discrimination, and living in fear that people would professionally bully them, “ganging up” on them and trying to make their institutional lives more difficult. In the following four chapters, each of these themes—strategies, obstacles, power, and resiliency—is presented with additional examples from the nested cases examined in this study. It is also important to point out how different these individuals were; there are many paths to grassroots leadership in the academy. Neeta was a very traditional scholar and scientist, Kevin had a community activist background, and Jane came out of another professional bureaucracy, the church. Some spent their entire careers in academe, like Veronica, Neeta, and Mike. Others came in with fresh ideas, like Kevin, Kathleen, and Jane. Faculty can emerge from the non–tenure track ranks, as did Kathleen and Kevin. They can be short-time campus members like Kevin or long-time faculty members like Neeta. Staff can work on issues closely related to their jobs, like Mike, or they may be more removed from their day-to-day responsibilities, such as Jane when she worked on domestic partner rights or Veronica in her work with staff equity. Some faculty worked on change initiatives that relate to their teaching and research, like Kathleen or Kevin. Others, like Neeta, had a change agenda unrelated to their disciplinary background and scholarly interests. While much of the book speaks to common strategies, tactics, or obstacles grassroots leaders face, their journeys are unique. Some faculty and staff felt that grassroots leadership was a calling for them— they could not avoid it. Mike and Jane are good examples of grassroots leaders who saw their work as a calling. Others felt inclined because of a sense of duty or see that the change needs to take place and no one is working toward it, like Kevin. Some come from a much more instrumental perspective—Veronica and Kathleen were such leaders. All individuals had a passion, but some really felt it was a life calling or destiny. They also experienced their work quite differently. Over time, Neeta gained power and legitimacy, and she could lead in less tempered and more outspoken ways. Kathleen had some early support and experienced fewer obstacles, but then the tides and campus administration

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turned, and she faced more formidable obstacles and power conditions. Veronica struggled and felt challenged during the entire twenty years of her effort. We found no common profile of a grassroots leader; yet their experiences culminate in a series of common tactics, strategies, obstacles, and ways to be resilient that can assist others who seek to change their institutions. In the coming chapters, we reveal more of the inner workings of faculty and staff grassroots leaders and the reasons for their varying experiences.

chapter five

Tactics and Strategy for Creating Meaningful Change

; In Chapter Four, we described Neeta, a faculty member working to improve student learning among diverse students in the sciences on campus. Neeta reminded us that her overall approach “is to explore and study teaching and learning approaches and educate others about approaches to help students be successful.” Her strategy was educational and strongly related to the mission of her liberal arts college. She achieved this overall strategy through a variety of tactics. She noted how she engaged in dialogues with other colleagues to create a vision and plan for change. To focus her vision and plan, she experimented with alternative pedagogies and new curricular approaches. Through this experimentation, she generated data about what works, so she could share with others as she tried to get more people on board to change the way science is taught and to improve the success of students of color. One of her most enjoyable efforts was mentoring students and learning from and with them strategies to make them successful. These lessons were also critical to modifying her vision. Neeta also worked with the diversity and curriculum committees to generate broader buy-in and support and mobilize more people toward the change effort. She obtained grants and resources to help others on campus to continue their work and broaden the curriculum efforts that the institution did not always support internally. As this short vignette suggests, grassroots leaders reported that strategy and tactics were on the forefront of minds and pivotal to creating change from the bottom up. As you will remember from earlier chapters, strategy is a set of principles that outline an overall approach while tactics are specific methods or techniques to achieve a specific objective or goal on the way to creating change. Similar to what is discussed in the

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grassroots leadership and tempered radicals literature, the faculty and staff participants in our study sought to stimulate organizational change through well-known grassroots tactics such as creating an ideology and vision, raising consciousness and awareness of the problem, empowering others to act despite organizational opposition, and building relationships with others interested in the change initiative. Our study identified a unique strategy that higher education bottom-up leaders took to create change that embodies the academic environment. In short, their overall strategy was to take an approach that was educational in nature. The tactics they used all relate to the strategy of being educationally oriented and are grounded in the academic culture: partnering with students, incorporating grassroots organizing into their courses, capitalizing on intellectual discussions, leveraging grant activity, and working with student clubs. The character of tactics looks different from the tactics of grassroots leaders in other settings; corporations do not have students to partner with or grant activity to leverage, for example. Our research demonstrated that the grassroots leadership literature (highlighted in the Appendix) provided a helpful place to begin investigation of faculty and staff grassroots leadership. Faculty and staff also capitalized on almost all of the tactical goals (creating vision, mobilizing) grassroots leaders identified. The major difference is that the faculty and staff modified the tactics to fit an educational context. While faculty and staff used a different strategy (education oriented) and created different tactics (mentoring students), they were attempting to reach similar goals to grassroots leaders in the community in terms of consciousness raising, creation of a vision, or influencing others. Therefore, grassroots leaders in higher education set up intellectual forums and workshops, rather than demonstrations, rallies, or one-on-one confrontation sessions. We make an original contribution to the leadership literature by identifying this unique strategy and set of tactics that align with the academic environment. This chapter illustrates the relevance of the tempered radicals framework and continuum of tactics. The overall concept from the tempered radicals framework—that people choose more moderate and incremental strategies and tactics within an institutional setting—was reflected in our stories of faculty and staff grassroots leaders. As we describe each tactic, we discuss ways it might be used in a tempered way to varying degrees. Yet the clear and preferred style of most of our faculty and staff grassroots leaders was a more tempered approach. While Meyerson (2003) found that certain approaches were inherently more tempered, we found that faculty and staff used each of these tactics in ways that were both tempered and more radical, depending on the circumstance.



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The tactics (such as resisting quietly or turning threats into opportunities leveraging small wins) identified in the tempered radicals framework were less relevant than we had originally anticipated. While faculty and staff grassroots leaders certainly operated behind the scenes, fewer people described self-expression, turning threats into opportunities, negotiation, or collective action. However, as we describe in the chapter on convergence with top-down efforts, the notion of negotiation will become much more prevalent. Also, people described leveraging small wins, but this idea was more a principle or concept across all the tactics rather than a tactic in itself. The concepts revealed in the research to be discussed in this chapter are summarized in Table 5.1 on page 100. Column 1, “Grassroots tactic,” is drawn from our review of the literature in the Appendix and reflects the findings in the study—that grassroots leaders on campus use the same tactics as grassroots leaders in the community. Column 2, “Higher education” process, reviews the specific vehicles used on college campuses to achieve these tactic that were identified in our study and are unique to higher education. Column 3, “Tempered approach,” is drawn from our study results and suggest how—in general—grassroots leaders on college campuses choose to use more tempered approaches that they saw fit within an institutionalized setting and that aligned with their roles as institutional participants. e duc at ion a l or ac a de m ic s t r at e g y As we listened to the voices of hundreds of faculty and staff leaders, a common and recurring theme kept reemerging as they spoke about approaching change and the manner in which they could be most effective. In the words of one faculty member: If my approach always ties back to the educational mission, it’s hard to criticize the work we’re doing. I was not always aware of this, and some of my earlier efforts failed. I make a very conscious effort to articulate how the changes I am fighting for are important for our educational mission. It is even better if I can say how the change will improve the teaching and learning environment.

In Figure 5.1, we illustrate strategy as a group-level concept that stems from the educational environment. The educational strategy was advantageous for creating change in three ways. First, the strategy enabled change by both tying the change effort directly to the educational mission and goals and directly relating to the work of faculty and staff on campus. Faculty and staff also noted

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Tactics and Strategy for Creating Meaningful Change ta bl e 5.1 Summary of grassroots tactics compared to educational process to achieve tactics.

Grassroots tactic

Higher education process

Tempered approach*

Vision

Intellectual forums

Vision based on traditional academic means of communication (forums) and professional development

Professional development Raise consciousness

Classrooms and course c­ urriculum Intellectual forums Professional development Working with and mentoring students

Creating networks/ empowering others/ relationship building

Mobilizing people

Working with and mentoring students Hiring and mentoring ­like-minded activists

Hiring and mentoring likeminded activists Using existing networks Using data Partnering with key s­ takeholders

Garnering resources

Gaining resources and support Using data

Persuasion and i­ nfluence

Partnering with key ­stakeholders Gaining resources and support

Use traditional institutional processes for raising ­consciousness Often done quietly and ­behind the scenes Major emphasis on raising ­consciousness Part of usual relationship development with other ­faculty and students Major emphasis on networks and creating change more through personal interaction Work through traditional approaches of data collection or working through committees Mobilizing is used much less frequently and bringing in external constituents or working with coalitions across the campus was more infrequent Try to work without resources or infrastructure and find behind the scenes money; most people on campus might not be aware of resources acquired for a long time, which keeps efforts behind the scenes Use more indirect forms of influence, such as demonstrating value of the idea through obtaining a grant Unlikely to tap key stakeholders very often, as seen as too overt

* The term tempered approach refers to how each tactic was tempered within the educational institutions.



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Group

Strategy

Educational

Tactics

Power dynamics

Figure 5.1.  Educational strategies in the grassroots leadership model.

that the educational approach was natural because it stemmed from the type of work they engaged in day to day, such as creating and delivering courses and working in support services for students. While this insight might seem more appropriate for some changes, for example innovative pedagogical changes, we found education significant across many different types of change initiatives. For example, faculty and staff grassroots leaders involved in creating equity for staff on the liberal arts campus spoke about how the change initiative was instructive for students, giving them a real-life example of inequities that had been discussed in their sociology and political science courses. They also spoke about the role of staff as educators and the manner in which inequities threatened staff’s ability to play their critical role as educators. Faculty at a community college intentionally related the environmental movement to sustainability and science—fundamental learning goals of the institution. Second, the educational strategy overcame obstacles by preventing criticism and objections to the change efforts. Many grassroots leaders spoke about an educational strategy deterring people from questioning the legitimacy of their work because they had intentionally noted the ways their work furthered or enhanced the educational environment. If they were addressing immigration rights, leaders spoke about the need for the campus to debate these issues as the world became more

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globalized, and they noted the institution’s desire to be more international in orientation. Having an educational strategy shielded grassroots leaders from overt criticism and placed their efforts where they would be protected by norms and policies of academic freedom. Change efforts require a great deal of human resources and time. Many people on campus can become concerned about faculty and staff investing a great deal of time on an issue that they see as peripheral to institutional interests. If members see the effort as peripheral, it is open to criticism, particularly if faculty and staff use time during their workday to contribute toward their change effort. While faculty have more autonomy, we found that their change efforts could still come under attack. The more that leaders tied the effort to the educational mission, the less that faculty and staff were open to criticism or constrained from being involved. For example, one faculty member spoke about organizing students, faculty, and staff around immigration rights and the backlash that she experienced because people perceive this topic as unrelated to campus activities. After two rallies, she had to back away from the change because colleagues and administrators raised concerns, and she began to feel backlash. Third, an educational rationale appealed to the sensibility of faculty and staff and had a strong alignment with the culture of the academy. If grassroots work was viewed as educational work, it made the activists feel more comfortable about their own involvement. Staff and faculty at one campus noted that they had not participated in an earlier movement around creating a child care center because it was not presented in terms of enhancing the campus learning environment. When the connection became clear, they felt much more excited about supporting such work. Grassroots leaders spoke about the appropriateness of an educational strategy and the fit with institutional norms—perceptions of what types of activities faculty and staff should be involved in and how they approached involvement. As one faculty member articulated: ­

I use this [educational] approach because it just seems to be better received. I had a background as a union organizer and student activist, and I relied on this approach when I first came here. Many of the skills that I learned organizing and through collective organizing can be very easily transferred to this campus. But I needed to change my overall approach about how I use the skills on campus. So when I think about building a coalition, I just go about it in a way that works better in an educational setting—through committees, through hiring, or reaching out to alumni.

Many faculty and staff talked about ways they developed an approach that fit the academic norms on their campus. At the liberal arts campus, intellectual curiosity was an overriding institutional norm, and various



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grassroots leaders used this curiosity to get people involved in grassroots efforts. Leaders on the campus promoted curiosity through speaker series, informal discussions with faculty and staff, and engaging students in creating campuswide events. While most successful grassroots leaders used the educational strategy, many people were not conscious or aware of using the strategy. However, the grassroots leaders implied an educational strategy in the tactics and the language used to explain their change effort. Only about two dozen people of the total 165 were consciously aware of using an educational change strategy; these individuals tended to be longtime grassroots leaders. A few less experienced grassroots leaders expressed a conscious awareness of using an educational strategy, but they had learned the strategy through a mentor or more senior grassroots activists. In addition, many of the faculty and staff grassroots leaders who had failed or felt frustrated with their efforts did not articulate using an educational strategy, which suggests the importance of the strategy. While we cannot determine causality, it does appear from the pattern we identified that an educational strategy may lead to greater success (of course other conditions can have an impact on the process as well). One of the implications is that faculty and staff grassroots leaders underutilize an educational strategy. One of the major lessons that we can bring to bottom-up leaders on college campuses is to more consciously reflect on and be aware of using an educational strategy to promote grassroots efforts. Long-term faculty and staff who had participated in and led a variety of grassroots efforts more clearly articulated the educational strategy. In early efforts, many grassroots leaders did not use the educational strategy, and their efforts had more resistance. Then, as they began to more clearly articulate the educational meaning and focus behind their change efforts, they were able to accomplish more: creating a more compelling vision, obtaining more buy-in from people, creating a broader coalition, becoming more persuasive in their arguments, gaining access to institutional resources, garnering attention from campus committees, obtaining support from newly hired faculty, and other tactics critical for being successful with grassroots change. Faculty and staff at the community college we studied described how connecting their diversity initiative to an educational approach shifted their success: For many years, a small group of people has been working to try to make firstgeneration students more successful. We typically used the diversity language and arguments and talked about equity and fairness. While this was compelling to some people, we just weren’t getting much traction. We started to talk about student success, and while this is only a small change, people really resonated

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with making students more successful on campus. General talk about access and equity and diversity unconnected to education didn’t help us to be successful. Now we have much more buy-in, and a real movement is being created.

ac a de m ic tac t ic s w i t h i n t h e e duc at ion a l s t r at e g y In addition to identifying an overall strategy to guide their change efforts, faculty and staff grassroots leaders used a variety of tactics that relate to the educational strategy. Further, these tactics also reflected the academic or higher education culture. Grassroots leaders chose tactics that accomplished particular objectives reflected in the grassroots literature, such as building a coalition or organizing people for action. However, they did so by using the techniques or vehicles available within the academic environment and that fit the norms and culture of the institution. We build on the grassroots literature by showing how the strategy and tactics of higher education grassroots leaders are tailored to the organization of which they are a part. The faculty and staff used tactics that are distinctly shaped by and aligned with the culture and character of the academy. For example, the collegial and consensus-based culture of the academy shaped a more tempered approach to community organizing through tactics such as working with and mentoring students, hiring like-minded social activists, and using existing networks. The teaching, research, and service missions of the campuses shaped a more tempered approach to consciousness raising and creation of coalitions through tactics such as lev­ eraging course curricula, using the classroom as a forum, organizing intellectual opportunities, partnering with external stakeholders, and garnering resources and support. Finally, the intellectual climate shaped a more tempered approach to consciousness raising and the development of vision through strategies such as creating professional development opportunities and using data and research to tell a story. Our analysis demonstrated the relationship between aspects of the academic culture like collegiality, mission (teaching, research, and service), and intellectual climate and the tactics used by grassroots leaders. We will now review the various tactics that were identified as most prevalent among the faculty and staff grassroots leaders. Certainly there were other tactics that were used, but these were the most common and have been described as some of the most important approaches. As we review each tactic, we discuss five elements: (1) how it connects to the educational strategy; (2) how it is a unique higher education tactic;



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ta bl e 5.2 Summary of institutional differences. Strategy

Institutional type

Intellectual opportunities Liberal arts colleges and research universities Professional development Community colleges, public regionals, and technical colleges Working with students Liberal arts colleges, community colleges, and ­public regionals Hiring like-minded people Community colleges, public regionals, and technical colleges Gathering data Research universities Garnering resources Research universities Partnering with key external Community colleges, liberal arts colleges stakeholders

(3) how it is connected to the grassroots tactics and goals (such as consciousness raising or coalition building); (4) how it varies by institutional type; and (5) how it is tempered (if not apparent). We also highlight some differences by institutional type, when relevant, to help guide grassroots leaders use of these tactics. However, we should note that most tactics worked across all institutional types. See Table 5.2 for a summary of institutional differences. The tactics used by grassroots leaders are represented in Figure 5.2. We organize the tactics in the order of the grassroots literature, beginning first with ways they create vision through intellectual opportunities, then continuing through ways they mobilizing by linking to students and lobbying via external groups, and finally demonstrating the evolution of tactics used at the beginning to those used in later stages of the effort. We also raise several obstacles in this chapter that will be addressed in Chapter Six. Organizing Intellectual Opportunities Faculty and staff are drawn to campus employment because they believe that the academy provides opportunities to debate interesting ideas. Consistent with the intellectual climate of college and university campuses, a prominent grassroots leadership tactic is the creation and organization of intellectual opportunities, where issues of interest can be intelligently discussed and debated. As one staff member recalled, “Over the years, change has occurred bottom-up because of discussion series, reading groups, which opens issues up for debate, and then something usually happens.” The types of intellectual opportunities run the gamut

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Strategy

Tactics

Power dynamics

• Organizing intellectual opportunities • Professional development • Leveraging curricula and using classrooms as a forum • Mentoring students • Hiring and mentoring like-minded social activists • Obtaining grants • Using data to tell a story • Joining in committees • Partnering with stakeholders

Figure 5.2.  Tactics used by grassroots leaders.

(one-time and sustained, formal and informal), but those that seem to create the most change are sustained intellectual opportunities rather than one-time or short-term forums. Ongoing lecture series, periodic forums, or luncheon groups were ways campuses continued the dialogue on important issues they were planning to create change. These sustained opportunities provided means to inform people of research that could be used toward a compelling argument for their change initiative, as well as crafting a vision. For example, one staff member described a Latino forum and the role it played in creating a grassroots leadership vision: This was an exciting time on campus where the faculty and staff came together at lunches to discuss issues that are important for this population. People would present their research; staff members might describe an intervention. But we got together and generally talked about what the key issues were, informed by data and research. This also helped us to craft a vision.

Additionally, sustained intellectual opportunities also allow people to join together and form loose networks and meet allies. For example, a group of female faculty at a university, which initially formed to discuss a particular feminist scholar’s work, eventually evolved into the “sisterhood network” that grassroots leaders knew they could call on for support, advice, and encouragement. At another campus, a faculty member described the pivotal role that a variety of retreats (as intellec-



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tual opportunities) played in creating a network that has sustained an environmental movement on campus: These trips were more than just directed retreats where you go for an afternoon to a resort or something—all tense and goal oriented. We went on these really intellectual excursions where we went on an elevator two miles underground salt flats in southeast New Mexico to see plutonium. The intensity of that experience connected us deeply about environmental issues. It was just mind blowing, and we have all worked together the last eight years since that experience toward a common vision we identified there. These people were strangers before, and now we are best friends because of this type of intense experience.

Though research universities and liberal arts colleges emphasized intellectual opportunities more, this approach was used at every campus, most likely because it is an innocuous strategy that aligns with the intellectual climate of the institution and allows controversial topics to be explored. One downside that staff noted about the intellectual strategy is that sometimes it turns into a purely intellectual exercise where change is discussed (vision developed and consciousness raised) but not enacted. For example, staff at Hidden Tempered Radical College mentioned intellectualism not turning into action related to the sexual harassment policy on campus, staff equity, and even with diversity at times. The intellectual approach can be a double-edged sword if members of campus do not follow up with action. Creating Professional Development Opportunities Another tactic for creating change is faculty and staff development opportunities. Faculty and staff development is tempered because it is a regular part of institutional operations. Professional development plays a similar role to intellectual opportunities by raising consciousness and helping to create or nurture a vision. However, professional development as a tactic was more commonly used on community college campuses, regional public institutions, and technical colleges. Intellectual opportunities were more prevalent at research universities and liberal arts colleges. Faculty and staff described development opportunities they created within their own units or opportunities to go off campus. Within our interviews, grasssroots leaders did not bring up administratively sponsored professional development and in fact felt that was usually less helpful. Union contracts often designate support for faculty and staff development, and having professional development options has become increasingly an important vehicle for campus innovation. Faculty and staff development bring in new ideas and awareness, and they are particularly important for employees, such as faculty, who tend to stay

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in their positions for much of their career. Faculty members, focused on creating a more diverse campus at Innovative Regional Public University, talked about the important benefits of professional development: I think many people of color just assume that other people are racist, and nothing can be done about it. But I’ve recognized that what we really need is training. If you teach a faculty member why something they said in a classroom might be offensive, I’ve seen that they do change. Because professional development is part of our contracts, people do participate, and I think it can have a big impact. We are educators after all; appealing to our intellectual curiosity is an important way to create change.

One faculty member elaborated on how important this tactic has been at their community college: It’s hard to get people to think about white privilege and white awareness, and the workshops and courses that Nadine offered created a group of thirty white faculty who really understood this issue. Next week, we are all going to wear some controversial T-shirts that allude to white privilege. Based on the professional development that we’ve done, we are hoping to answer questions that people have based on our greater awareness. But until you are well informed, it’s hard to educate other people. I can really see this work as part of our work as educators well.

Faculty and staff grassroots leaders talked about various offices creating development opportunities: The diversity office is always offering great training, and the curriculum committee has done that for faculty as well. The academic senate and the multicultural staff association have each generated different professional development well. So it comes from all sorts of different sources. The one on how to hire affirmatively was just amazing. We also had one on how to create change when you do not have support from the top.

Again, it is important to note that faculty and staff perceived bottom-up professional development—as opposed to that imposed by administrators—as legitimate. If administrators sponsor development, it is often perceived as a mandate or prescriptive task. Others considered facultyorganized professional development as an opportunity to explore without the assumption that they would adopt the innovation or idea. They perceive less pressure, and the professional development creates more of a learning opportunity. Some of the professional development takes place on campus, but because several institutions were part of a state system, development also took place at the region and state level. The connection to other campuses engaged in change through multicampus systems provided



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avenues for learning about strategies for change and networking. Furthermore, multicampus and state systems often offered professional development across campuses that helped grassroots leaders meet change agents at other campuses engaged in similar types of changes. One faculty member described how she used the resources available throughout the system to help create a women’s center on campus, a women’s faculty association, a sexual harassment policy, and a women’s leadership development program: Connections to people from other campuses in the system, through professional development, helped me get the idea to start a women’s center. I realize we really need one of those on the campus. I also used that network off campus to help create a sexual harassment policy and the idea for the women’s leadership development program. We have all the speakers come in from other campuses as well—people I met through the system professional development.

To foster change, this group was able to leverage resources and ideas from within the campus network that would be unavailable to campuses outside the system. The change agents that are on multicampus systems should be aware of this resource (professional development in the larger system) for their leadership efforts. Many faculty and staff mentioned gaining leadership skills through the union. Unions also offer professional development on teaching and learning issues. However, the union focuses on organizing and does not help people translate this into other change processes. Some people made the connection and used it in other change processes, but others did not. Leveraging Curricula and Using Classrooms as Forums Faculty and staff use courses and the broader curriculum to raise consciousness and develop awareness about their initiatives in progress. As one illustration, faculty concerned with environmentalism developed student and colleague awareness by changing the curriculum, eventually translating this awareness into a sustainability plan for the campus. Not only faculty but also staff pointed to this strategy. Staff members noted how they created relationships and partnered with faculty to get their ideas included in classes. Staff also created cocurricular experiences to highlight issues in the residence halls and within student life programming. This tactic is unique to higher education—other organizations do not have a similar vehicle for embedding new ideas, creating awareness, or reaching members so systematically. Campuses with a strong teaching mission, like the liberal arts college, community college, and regional public, found leveraging curricula and classrooms to be a particularly

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powerful strategy. When used by individual faculty in individual courses, this strategy can be quite tempered. When infused more broadly into the curricula or communicated throughout the institution and to administration through the presentation of student assignments and learning, this strategy may be considered less tempered. For instance, one faculty member, fighting the trends toward commercialization on campus, had several students focus their senior theses on the institution’s new research center and some of the problems and conflicts of interest it could present. Another faculty member, focused on environmentalism, used course assignments for students to conduct research on making the campus more sustainable. He described these efforts: So I had my students conduct small studies, and they have been interviewing people across campus. They developed a report as a class that was presented to the administration for ways to think about creating more sustainable practices.

The tactic of leveraging curricula and classrooms can range from most tempered—when the faculty member is seeking to raise student consciousness and awareness on a particular topic related to the course—to least tempered—when the faculty member uses students’ raised consciousness as a way to publicly elevate the issue and perhaps shame the administration into changing dominant organizational practices. Often a more radical approach is to advocate for programmatic or curricular requirement changes on campus. This approach is a more radical one because it is public, involves multiple constituencies, seeks to change the core technology, and has the potential to invoke greater resistance. However, it was a tactic used by some of our participants, including one progressive faculty member who obtained a leadership position on the curriculum committee. That committee created a process for teaching evaluation and observation using teacher observation to enhance pedagogical skills. The committee strategically organized faculty who epitomized student-centeredness as part of the classroom observations. Several faculty mentioned that this policy has been pivotal for creating change in the classroom: “There are dozens of new faculty who have been inspired when they’ve seen Professor Thomas teach—he is amazing with first-generation students and students of color.” Fewer faculty engaged in this more radical approach because the type of change invoked is fraught with political minefields and results in greater resistance. Working with and Mentoring Students Many faculty and staff spoke about the way they mentored students outside the classroom to create change. In the words of one staff member:



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Change happens on this campus when students are involved. In fact, I almost cannot think of a change where students have not been involved, and faculty and staff know this to be the case. But faculty and staff are always there behind the scenes working with them in one way or another—helping develop negotiation tactics, helping them develop reports, providing them with data, developing an idea for a forum, and the like.

Mentoring students emerges as important because faculty and staff know that the core mission of academic institutions is students and learning. Nothing is more compelling to administrators than having a major constituent group like students support an initiative. Working with students is also a form of coalition building by aligning with a group that has power on many campuses. Interviewees noted that aligning with students was perhaps the most important tactic at liberal arts campuses, but it was also noted as critical by interviewees at community colleges and regional public institutions. Most instances of faculty or staff working with students happen behind the scenes, and people across campus are unaware of this activity. Even if students mobilize, administrators would not be aware when students were acting alone or with other faculty. Faculty and staff described many different approaches to working with students, from creating a coalition with students, to mentoring students to take direct action on campus and working with student clubs. A faculty member and staff member both recalled how their work with students around gender equity issues on campus helped to create significant change. In the words of the faculty member: I was the adviser for the first group of young women on campus who formed a chapter of NOW (National Organization for Women). These were really dynamic young women, and because this was created as an all-male environment this was really an undertaking and quite challenging. Through advising them, I helped them recruit, grow, bring presenters to campus, build alliances, suggest policy changes such as the sexual harassment policy, and I think we made significant changes on campus. Through this group, it also helped us mobilize faculty and staff and create some networks on campus.

As this quotation demonstrates, faculty and staff were able to make remarkable change working with students through various cocurricular activities. These activities also foster formal and informal networks between faculty and staff that created coalitions, and these networks also helped create change. One staff member described the way they met with students to strategize a plan for improving staff equity, particularly for custodial and groundskeeping staff:

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Because students are such a central part of the campus, they give back as alumni. We knew that working with them could help our cause. So we had several meetings where we were strategizing what we might do to improve the situation for staff. Students decided they were going to ask for meetings with the administration. We worked together to develop some recommendations. We also met with the diversity committee to create a coalition—the students helped to build that bridge as they work with both groups, as well as influential faculty, which staff do not have access to.

This example demonstrates the diverse ways that students and staff worked together: to mobilize various groups on campus, to craft data, to build coalitions, and to strategize. Only two of the campuses we visited were residential; most were commuter institutions. Some faculty and staff commented that students were difficult to engage in leadership because they commute and because of the large size of the institution, where it is difficult for students to make personal connections. Also, on some campuses, students were not very progressive. While commuter campuses had more difficulty engaging students, faculty and staff noted some successes by identifying a small group of dedicated students to work with. Faculty and staff also warned that working with students can be fraught with ethical dilemmas. There is a delicate balance between mentoring students about activism and leadership and using them as pawns toward a goal that a campus group is working toward. Most interviewees registered that they thought deeply about the ethics of engaging with students in their grassroots leadership working and were conscious of constantly watching the boundary between teaching and possible exploitation. Hiring and Mentoring Like-Minded Social Activists Hiring like-minded social activist faculty and staff is one of the most prevalent and tempered tactics used by grassroots leaders to create campus change because faculty and staff involvement in the hiring and socialization processes is standard practice. Through the hiring process, grassroots leaders have the opportunity to create a critical mass or network of individuals with a commitment and passion for the issues on which grassroots leaders hope to make change. Many faculty and staff grassroots leaders dedicate themselves to participating on hiring committees or lobbying members of hiring committees. One story about a contentious hiring process shows this process of mobilizing around hiring: So the economics department, which is all white males, is currently undergoing a hiring process. A group of us met to decide who should get on that commit-



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tee; we knew they would be resistant to anyone we forwarded. I was able to get on the committee by working closely with the dean, but with much protest. Although I am a white male, I do not share the same politics of others in that department; I am much more progressive. They have complained to the dean and then went to the academic senate, and now it’s gone to the board. They actually have taken this issue to the board because they know how effective we are on creating change through hiring committees, and they are scared.

The strategy, however, does not end with hiring but continues on into mentoring and socializing new faculty and staff. One staff member described the process: I feel it is important in moving towards institutional change to mentor new hires who are interested in the same issues that I am that can be allies. Myself and other activists meet, and we say, “Okay, I’ll go out to lunch with this new hire and get to know him better, and you ought to lunch with this one.” We sort of divvy up getting to know all the new people and creating more allies.

Many participants spoke about the importance of relationships and personal connections for creating networks of like-minded people as a core tactic for creating change on campus. At some institutions, particularly the research university and the liberal arts college, faculty found themselves frustrated in their efforts to hire individuals who had an interest in similar change initiatives. The hiring process at these institutions focused on the criteria of research productivity and quality. Other characteristics, such as leadership, organizational citizenship, and commitment to students—often part of the characteristics of grassroots leaders—were not valued in the hiring process. One faculty member commented both on the difficulty of using the tactic and on its importance: We got a lot of flak from the administration when we tried to rethink hiring criteria. We know that one of the key ways to create change is to hire the next generation of campus leaders, but we really have our hands tied. Even the president called us out. We have had pockets of success.

Garnering Resources and Support Unlike businesses, colleges and universities have very little research and development money to test ideas (particularly for those outside the administration). Grassroots leaders need to find ways to obtain seed funding for a change initiative, often through grants and other external supports. On many campuses, a diversity initiative, campus and community partnership, or service learning project got off the ground because of external funding. Grants were also used to mobilize people, providing a

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way to bring people together by funding meetings and conferences and helping create collective action. Grants were also mentioned as critical to gaining influence because obtaining a grant legitimizes an idea. This one tactic is significantly different, depending on the institutional type. Overwhelmingly, faculty and staff at the research university spoke more often about the power of grant money for facilitating organizational change from the grassroots. As one staff member quipped, “If you have an idea, people say go get a grant. The multicultural women’s luncheon—that was based off a minigrant. Most of the things I can think of were created through grants.” Obtaining external grants and support is a tempered approach because the strategy is aligned with the normal operations of a college or university campus. On many campuses, external grant money provided the support and infrastructure for grassroots change initiatives, despite the turnover in grassroots leaders. These monies sustain an initiative, despite a lack of formal support from institutional authorities. However, obtaining grants to support initiatives can also influence those in authority positions to see the change initiative as valuable or worthwhile, as described by this staff member: Individuals can create change if they have grant money. Research centers can heighten awareness about different issues as well. It can host conferences and attract people to hear whatever the message is. For example, with diversity issues on campus, we were able to get grant support for our efforts. It seems that when you can attract attention from external funders, the institution pays attention and is much more open to the kind of changes the faculty and staff are interested in and down the line provides internal resources.

Balancing the interests of the grant funders, the demands of administration, and the grassroots vision can be challenging. Grassroots leaders who choose to use grant funding as a tactic should develop ways to counter those challenges to meet the goals for organizational change. Using Data to Tell a Story Faculty and staff also describe collecting and using data on campus to tell the story of the initiative, raise consciousness, mobilize action, and garner support as a critical tactic for creating change on college and university campuses. Again, this tactic can be a tempered approach because it aligns with the academic culture, which tends to be evidence and research based. This does not mean using data cannot be a radical approach, but that its resonance with the academic culture means that norms were not necessarily challenged. Perhaps obviously, the use of



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data is a particularly helpful strategy on the research university campus. One staff member at the research university declared, “If you want change on this campus, just develop a study and present the results to those who have resources.” However, simply presenting the results is not a sufficient strategy; grassroots leaders need to use the data to create a story about the issue or change initiative. A faculty member described data storytelling as a grassroots leadership strategy: I got in touch with a vice president whom I knew was interested in student success. He was able to give me a document based on some focus groups that have been conducted; the study just ended up getting shelved. There are some great charts, and they could be used to talk about ways to make students more successful on campus. People on campus really respond to data. But you need someone like me willing to tell the story and advocate for change.

A staff member told a similar story: So I went directly into my boss and gave them this article about the plight of black males. I said this is what we deal with every day; we really need to take up the recommendations of this article. I couldn’t believe it; he jumped right in and started sharing it with all of the executives. Major changes ensued.

As the faculty and staff members’ stories demonstrate, grassroots leaders identify data and use them to compel people toward important changes that need to be made. Grassroots leaders, however, need to be constantly vigilant to ensure that data (like intellectual opportunities) actually translate into action because the tendency for inaction and paralysis is common. Joining In and Using Existing Networks Grassroots leaders described using existing networks to further their changes; some even used institutional bodies such as the academic senate or campus committees. Committees and campus groups are often considered part of “shared governance”—a unique feature of higher education campuses (compared to other organizations). It is culturally normative for faculty and staff (and students) to participate in committees that make decisions, solve problems, and facilitate organizational change. Even as shared governance goes into decline, campuses have some form of governance, though it may not be as influential or widespread. While joining in governance may seem more like a traditional organizational change strategy rather than a grassroots strategy, our participants characterized joining as a final strategy used once consciousness has been raised, vision communicated, and informal networks created. The goal

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is then to move to active influence and action. Participation gives visibility to the grassroots change initiative, as grassroots leaders can use campus committees and the governance structure as venues for speaking on the initiative and influencing colleagues and the upper administration. One faculty member at a community college talked about the grassroots leaders’ efforts to get on key institutional committees: We recognize there were certain committees that, if we were able to get on them, such as the curriculum committee, we could really make a lot of change. We were able to get a multicultural requirement put in place. Also, this is a natural place for creating professional development opportunities, which are another one of our strategies. I’ve organized teaching conferences, workshops, teaching demonstrations, all sorts of learning opportunities, since I was on the curriculum committee.

Another faculty member described the joining in strategy: How can I say this? We engineered, for lack of a better word, our placement on strategic committees. We got on the key academic senate committees, the curriculum committee, hiring committees, program review committee, budget allocation committee. We simply engineered our way on these; it was part of our change strategy.

While some focused more on committees and governance structures, others used existing networks around topical areas that related to their change initiative. For example, on one campus there was a group of faculty and staff interested in immigration rights. They were not an informal group that met over lunch or after work, but they were also not a formal group set up or sanctioned by the administration, senate, school, or unit. Instead, they were a group, established by a few faculty, that had official meeting times and agendas. This group became a pivotal structure for a movement around supporting immigration rights for their students and the community. Joining with formal institutional structures, such as working on committees, is a challenging strategy for grassroots leaders for many reasons. First, tactics can easily become too tempered and issues watered down while attempting to work through official channels. One group commented that “diversity became morphed—it became separated from power and became celebratory, which was not our intent.” Second, the temporal nature and short time span of committees are misaligned with the complexity of issues usually addressed by grassroots leaders (environmentalism, diversity) and the length of time needed to accomplish grassroots organizational change. These challenges are explored further in Chapter Six.



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Partnering with Key External Stakeholders A final tactic particularly suited to the community college and liberal arts context is partnering with key external stakeholders. Like obtaining grants in the research university context, partnering with key external stakeholders (such as alumni and local business, political, and community leaders) is a tactic for garnering support and enhancing the validity of the issue. The support of key stakeholders can help to overcome internal resistance and inertia by mobilizing through influence. Local politicians and community organizations are able to influence community college operations because of the unique mission of community colleges. Similarly, alumni are able to influence the liberal arts college because alumni offer support and resources. However, this relationship would be true for any campus with strong alumni relations and connections. One particularly potent example of this tactic can be found on the community college campus. Several faculty and staff at the community college became active in the politics of the surrounding area, so they were able to leverage their external sources to pressure the board to make necessary changes. The changes were related to diversifying the faculty, providing support services for students of color, creating more campus and community partnerships, creating leadership programs for students, and making curricular changes to support remedial students. One staff member commented on this tactic: I think it is natural, because we’re a community college, to work with the community to create change. I know that the Asian American leadership programs that I work with would not still be supported if we didn’t have pressure from the community to maintain the program. They have seen the benefit and really support it. They regularly provide feedback to the campus. The community is a partner in our grassroots changes.

As this quotation demonstrates, successful grassroots leaders leveraged long-term support from outside groups. They used community groups to support various initiatives over time. The relationship was not short term but ongoing. As another example, a faculty member at the liberal arts college contacted some influential alumni when she faced obstacles on campus to her efforts to support minority students through a mentoring program. She did not have a prior relationship with them, but some colleagues on campus put her in touch with them, believing the alumni might be interested in supporting the idea. After a series of discussions with the alumni, she was able to convince them to contact board members who eventually suggested that a plan (just like the one she put forward) be taken on by the administration of the campus. ­L everaging

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powerful outside groups also presented challenges. Often the external support recedes and moves on to other priorities. At such times, when the pressure is off, those in positions of authority on campus often lash out at grassroots leaders who have helped instigate change and who have leveraged the pressure from outside. Grassroots leaders were more successful when they did not directly tie themselves to these outside groups or forces and remained anonymous. l i n k i ng s t r at e g y a n d tac t ic s We now describe one particular change effort to demonstrate the way that the education strategy and various tactics come together to further the efforts of grassroots leaders. The case also demonstrates the manner in which tactics overlap and work to further the goals and objectives of the movement. In italics, we highlight the grassroots tactics capitalized on within the change effort. This case demonstrates a successful group who identified an educational strategy to guide their effort early and used a variety of tactics. In our study, we spoke with many individuals who never identified an educational strategy, did not modify their tactics for the educational environment, or did not use enough tactics simultaneously; none was a successful story. Nested Case: Environmentalism at a Liberal Arts College Several faculty members in the sciences at a liberal arts college began to meet and discuss how they were not contributing to solving real-world problems and their students were graduating without a commitment to addressing challenges, such as global warming. As a result of various conversations, the faculty grassroots leaders decided to develop awareness more broadly about environmentalism on campus—this was an educational imperative and a plan to convince others on campus about the relationship of environmentalism to the general knowledge students need before they graduate from college (forming an educational strategy). Through these discussions, their essential educational strategy was set, and they moved to activate this plan over time through a scattershot of different tactics. One of the faculty members wrote a provocative concept paper about how the campus might transform the curriculum and programs to address environmentalism. The faculty member also organized a series of discussions to provide feedback and debate the concept paper (creating intellectual discussion and forums). He described this process: “The



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concept paper really kicked off the movement here; it got people talking and helped us create networks with people across campus.” A debate ensued, and, although many were resistant to the ideas, several faculty from other disciplines (political science, sociology, anthropology, art history) eventually became interested in environmentalism. The science faculty began to organize and meet regularly with faculty from across the disciplines (joining in). They built a network through linking environmentalism to other initiatives. One faculty member noted that environmentalism became linked to diversity: “Diversity was a real priority. It was being discussed across a variety of schools and disciplines. Some of us thought, ‘Hey, we can connect this to environmental problems in South America and Africa to social justice and equity concerns that researchers committed to diversity might embrace.’” The main core of eight active faculty made efforts over the following ten years to transform the teaching of science into a more interdisciplinary endeavor (leveraging curricula and using classroom as a forum). They obtained outside grants because they lacked institutional support for their efforts and the resources to explore teaching innovations, such as team teaching (obtaining grants). The grants also allowed them to develop summer retreats for faculty involved in the interdisciplinary team teaching efforts on campus (using professional development). For approximately five years, they organized a retreat to take faculty to an offcampus site to see firsthand some form of environmental degradation. One year they went to a nuclear site, for example. Several of the faculty involved with this effort talked about its impact in the way it strengthened the grassroots efforts; as one faculty member said: Going on the retreat was one of the best experiences of my professional career. It helped us to really develop long-term relationships with other faculty whom we had never known and who are outside our departments. These people have become my longtime colleagues and friends now. The retreat also strengthened our resolve to make changes.

They petitioned the administration for an environmental studies program and for a sustainability plan for facilities but had no success. When a new president with more interest in environmental issues arrived, the grassroots leaders set up a series of meetings with the administrators and sent him strategically developed letters about institutional direction related to environmentalism, using data and research to support their ideas (using data to tell a story). Members of the group identified two faculty members who had worked in the administration and board members who could help them translate their ideas in ways that would be persuasive to campus administrators (partnering with

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­external ­stakeholders). They obtained a grant to start an environmental speaker series to which they invited administrators (obtaining grants and intellectual opportunities). The administrators “were impressed because it demonstrated external money, support, and connections.” They also included course assignments in which students examined the carbon footprint of the campus and had students present their results to the administrators (leveraging curricula and using classrooms as forums). Several of the faculty became involved with mentoring student groups and developed some new groups on campus focused specifically on environmental issues (mentoring students). After fifteen years of concerted efforts, the grassroots initiative achieved many of their goals, including support for research on environmentalism, a commitment to teaching environmentalism, and a new environmental studies program. In addition to getting support for a program, they also obtained a new building to house their efforts and to increase their research in this area. As one faculty member explained, “We have more than I dreamed—a new building, a campus sustainability plan, a major, lots of faculty interest, a new curriculum, and tons of new support for environmentalism.” But it was not all even progress, which will be the topic of the next chapter. conclusion This chapter helps to appreciate the unique ways that higher education grassroots leaders effectively approach change, focusing on their strategies and tactics that closely mirror the grassroots tactics and tempered radicals approach. While faculty and staff borrow the general tactics of activists in the community, such as mobilizing or consciousness raising, they modify their approach in two significant ways. First, they generally approach their tactics in an educational manner and use educational or academically oriented vehicles to achieve their goals. Second, faculty and staff grassroots leaders temper their tactics like Meyerson’s tempered radicals, in contrast with community activists. The stories clearly demonstrate creative ways that external community grassroots leadership strategies have been modified to fit into the academic institutional setting.

chapter six

Analyzing and Overcoming Obstacles and ­Challenges for Grassroots Leadership

; In Chapter Four, we described Kathleen, a community college faculty member who had established an environmentalism and sustainability academic program. Kathleen helped to create a recycling program in the college, fund-raise for a new sustainable building, organize the creation of an endowed faculty position, and establish a series of academic degree and certificate programs on sustainability. Although she was successful in many of her goals, she encountered many institutional, group, and individual barriers that almost impeded her success. Kathleen, for example, experienced a lack of authority and power as a part-time faculty member—an institutional barrier. She also experienced conflicts working in groups, such as those that arose from divergent visions about curriculum and pedagogy. Individuals on the team often clashed when discussing the specific aspects of the curriculum for the sustainability stewardship programs, as well as other related academic programs. Kathleen primarily worked in groups, but she also found value in pushing toward change alone, particularly when she wanted to shelter the others in the group from backlash. So, she also faced obstacles on an individual level. Kathleen was challenged to find time for her activities and felt the emotional toll of constantly fighting the status quo: There were a lot of bruises. It was really painful. Change is never easy. I understood that; I understood that trying to get institutions to change is hard for people. I tried to say it wasn’t about me; it was about change. I tried to stay focused on that. I was bruised and embarrassed. I would go into meetings, and people would insult me.

The challenges and obstacles, as already stated, are categorized into three levels: organizational, group or team, and individual. At the ­organizational

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level (similar to the educational tactics described in Chapter Five), challenges and obstacles reflect the context, culture, and processes in academic environments. Campuses have changed in ways that make grassroots leadership more difficult for both faculty and staff, but more ­recently changes have made it particularly difficult for faculty. There are numerous organizational conditions that affect grassroots leadership: academic capitalism, rising publication standards, decline in shared governance, the rise of part-time and contingent faculty, the expanded faculty role, different status between student and academic affairs, staff and faculty subcultures, high turnover, and the conservative and generally entrenched culture of the academy, to name a few. The first several are germane only for faculty. While we discuss some ways that grassroots leaders address these challenges, Chapter Twelve focuses on how administrators can relieve some of these organizational conditions to help faculty and staff overcome these obstacles. Also, we focus on organizational obstacles (our unique contribution to the literature), as these have not been a focus within any of the grassroots literature because leadership documented within this literature often happens outside organizational settings. The group obstacles largely reflect the dilemmas of working in collective settings and group interactions—interpersonal conflicts, divergent visions, and group consciousness. Building dialogue, relationships, and trust is critical for addressing many of the group obstacles. We describe how grassroots leaders can overcome group obstacles but acknowledge that this is fraught with difficulty. Group obstacles were perhaps the most challenging obstacles we identified, and we discuss the need for future research on this issue in the last chapter. The individual obstacles represent the psychological issues of maintaining change work: feeling overburdened and the emotional toll. Chapter Nine, on resiliency, provides detailed discussion of the way that grassroots leaders address and work through individual obstacles. Group and individual obstacles also reflect departments’ or units’ challenges, such as a lack of resources and feeling overburdened. Each of the obstacles is represented in Figure 6.1. An important point is that organizational obstacles differ for faculty and staff, although group and individual obstacles remain largely the same. We will highlight the differences in organizational obstacles as they vary by role as faculty or staff. As noted in Chapter Two and the Appendix, grassroots literature and the tempered radicals framework help in understanding some of the individual and group obstacles that grassroots leaders encounter outside an educational context. Among the more prevalent challenges noted in the literature are the stigma and emotional toll required to constantly



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Organizational Decline in shared governance Academic capitalism and rising publication standards

Group

Individual

Interpersonal issues

Emotional toll

Divergent visions

Feeling overburdened

Group consciousness and solidarity

Resources

Expanded faculty role Rise in contingent faculty Different status between student and academic affairs High turnover Institutional culture of the status quo Classroom mentality

Figure 6.1.  Challenges and obstacles faced by grassroots leaders.

challenge the status quo (Meyerson, 2003). Grassroots leaders typically identify and challenge the ways in which institutions of higher education operate. From the diversity of the faculty to environmentally friendly practices to the role of service learning in the curriculum, grassroots leaders suggest new practices and create networks for support. They are often visible and embody their movement’s ideologies. At times, these leaders can be stigmatized as troublemakers, berated for their tactics and beliefs, and forced to find ways to stay the course. One of the unfortunate outcomes of being stigmatized is the potential for balkanization—the breakdown of groups into smaller units due to disagreements. For example, some members of a group may want to distance themselves from an individual or set of individuals who are perceived as too controversial.

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In this chapter, we highlight the obstacles and challenges that grassroots leaders faced while trying to create change. Specifically, we focus on the obstacles and challenges as they relate to the educational environment, which is why we foreground organizational obstacles. Many of the organizational obstacles, such as rising productivity to achieve tenure, expanding faculty roles, or the division between academic and student affairs, are unique to the academy.1 Identifying these challenges will make grassroots leaders more aware of barriers and will help them anticipate and strategize ways to circumvent obstacles. Many of the grassroots leaders in this study noted that their activities would have been enhanced by understanding potential challenges beforehand. org a n i z at ion a l obs tacl e s Many of the organizational obstacles reflect recent changes to higher education, such as the decline of shared governance, which creates a culture less friendly to activism on campus because faculty voice is already not a priority. However, other organizational obstacles reflect the culture of the academy as it has existed for years, such as the many subcultures between and among faculty and staff. We start by describing the organizational obstacles as they also shape group and individual obstacles. For example, groups are challenged to establish a common vision, consciousness, and solidarity when relationship building becomes an obstacle, due to the expansion of the faculty role and the different roles of academic and student affairs. Individuals feel overburdened, and an emotional toll arises when groups fail and cannot share the burden. We first describe the organizational barriers to faculty grassroots activism, followed by those expressed by staff or shared by both faculty and staff. Declining Shared Governance The first major organizational obstacle relates to the decline of shared governance (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). Traditionally, faculty were expected to play a leadership role within the institution as part of their role in shared governance (Lucas, 1994). However, many argue that shared governance has been weakened in recent years, that decisions are increasingly centralized on campus and that faculty are involved less in campuswide decision making and increasingly excluded from key decision areas such as budget, strategic planning, and broader institutional operations (Kezar, 2001a; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Schuster and Finkelstein’s (2006) national data show



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that fewer tenure track faculty are involved with campuswide service and governance and that faculty feel they are losing their grip on institutional affairs. Service work was overwhelmingly concentrated at the departmental level rather than at the university level, and faculty focus much more directly on service connected to the department (clerical in nature) rather than governance. Toward the conclusion of their book, Shuster and Finkelstein note that “institutional administration and governance are shrinking spheres of faculty work and responsibility or involvement” (p. 325). Many grassroots leaders noted the decline in campus governance and expressed that this decline created an institutional barrier to change. Not only could they not use governance to create change, but they often had to spend their valuable time on campus governance processes that had no real impact. Grassroots leaders considered the system ineffective and impotent, often seeing it as a mechanism to make faculty feel involved in decision making without having any actual power to inform and/or change decisions. Several participants described how the faculty senate functioned as a “garbage can,” circumventing any real change by taking faculty’s time and energy but without any change occurring. Because faculty governance was powerless and marginalized, leaders lost precious time attempting to use governance for change. One participant explained the state of governance on his campus by saying, “I think we used to have more faculty governance here but . . . there is now a oneway communication from administration to faculty.” Another participant on the same campus agreed: One thing that surprised me when I first came here was that there really isn’t a faculty senate. There is a faculty meeting chaired by the president and the dean, which to me means there is no voice for the faculty. The same way we talk about staff not having a voice, I would dare say the faculty, who one expects to have a voice, really doesn’t have a voice.

Many grassroots leaders saw the ineffective faculty senate as a reason for engaging in grassroots change activities. If the faculty senate was an ineffective venue for advocating for faculty rights and change, faculty used other tactics (as discussed in Chapter Five) to create change. The faculty senate, however, often became an institutional barrier; for example, needing the structures of the senate to advance change and having those structures be ineffective or powerless. One participant, who was working toward the development of an environmentalism academic degree programs on a college campus, reached the point where she needed to engage the curriculum committee, which served under the faculty governance structure. She explained that faculty favored traditional

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­ epartments in the process because they were “mainstream” and acd cepted by the campus administration. Other more innovative programs were often marginalized and had a difficult time getting support from the committee. She explained, “Anybody else (for example, environmental science) is kind of ‘the outsiders.’ Everybody is funneled through the math, biology, chemistry funnel, and I find it ridiculous. ‘We call it the Great Wall of China’ as traditional institutional structures just create blockades to change.” Without support from the curriculum committee, new programs could not progress, thereby limiting the ability for new and innovative academic programs to develop. To circumvent lack of support in the curriculum committee, this individual used the tactics of partnering with stakeholders and developing coalitions across the campus. Several external funders and supporters publicly supported the new programs and provided funding for capital projects. By doing so, the campus had to take notice of the need to revise curricula and approve the new degree programs. While ineffective governance and a lack of faculty power in decision making exist on many college campuses, obstacles can be overcome with networks, coalitions, and external supporters to put pressure on the structures that prevent change. Academic Capitalism and Rising Publication Standards Academic capitalism refers to the trend of universities and faculty toward market participation and market behaviors to increase revenue and for faculty to subsidize their pay with grants and outside contracts. Faculty have more autonomy, can make additional income, and can partially privatize and profit from their work and research (Fairweather, 1996; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Faculty members are pursuing grants, entrepreneurial curriculum, and off-campus activities that prevent the same level of investment in campus leadership activities seen in the past. In addition, as faculty join campuses, they are being socialized to believe that involvement in external activities is more important than on-campus activities, which may result in declining campus engagement and leadership. One participant in a pretenure support and strategy group succinctly explained the importance of receiving grants and focusing externally: I don’t know that there’s much institutional recognition [for involvement in the support committee]. They probably see it in our [promotion and tenure] document, but I don’t know that they really know we exist. I think once we secure this grant, because what the institution is really interested in is getting money, so there may be more recognition of the group in that sense, because they’d have



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to come up with matching funds. If you’re bringing money into the college, then you get some recognition. Otherwise, we’d really live on the fringes.

The grassroots leader implies that her work within the committee may not be recognized; yet she will receive recognition and praise if she is to receive a grant. Repeatedly, we heard stories of grassroots leaders who felt as though successful grant seeking was one of the only ways to gain the attention of central administration, receive respect and recognition within the institution, and be granted authority to enact change. This phenomenon is a particular obstacle for tenure track and non–tenure track faculty who find that their nonfunded grassroots activities are not given any recognition in tenure, promotion, and/or annual evaluations. Related to academic capitalism are the rising publication standards for tenure and promotion, which also present a significant problem for faculty leadership. Publication standards (in terms of numbers) for tenure have more than tripled since 1970 (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). The data that Schuster and Finkelstein (2006) collected related to satisfaction suggest that faculty are more dissatisfied than ever because of their increasing workloads and pressures to publish. When asked about the increasing rise in research and publication standards, one grassroots leader corroborated increased expectations and explained the pressures: That is right. They are increasing. You are expected to do it [publish], but the ability of the institution to support that is not uniform across all disciplines. Second thing is, as that pressure goes up, which is the pressure to bring in research money and publish. So where is the time to play a leadership role?

Many of the grassroots leaders noted the importance of rising productivity standards, such as obtaining external money and growing their publication records, and felt that these expectations were an obstacle to grassroots work. We heard many stories of the difficulties that faculty experience trying to balance productivity expectations with their change efforts (see the discussion of the theme of feeling overburdened later in this chapter). Assistant professors were often advised to not engage in grassroots efforts but to focus on the specific productivity standards, often aligned with publication and grant seeking. Expanded Faculty Role Another organizational obstacle concerns the expansion of faculty roles in teaching and service (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). Today, faculty are asked to retool their teaching on an ongoing basis: integrate new technologies, assess their teaching, try new teaching methods, and

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a­ ssume greater service responsibilities (Gappa, Austin, & Trice, 2007; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). In addition to an expanded teaching role, tenure track faculty also assume greater service responsibilities because there are fewer tenure track faculty (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). The few tenure track faculty often orient and schedule the courses for parttime faculty, assume more student paperwork, and have a larger burden of program and departmental service work. Non–tenure track faculty are also being increasingly asked to assume service and administration, and without compensation (Hollenshead et al., 2007). Lastly, the dramatic increase in knowledge production in some fields hampers faculty from contributing to campus leadership, particularly at research-intensive campuses (Sorcinelli, 2007). Research has become more complex, and keeping up with regular advances in a field can become all consuming. As Sorcinelli, Austin, Eddy, and Beach (2006) note, balancing the increasing and expanded workload of faculty—experiment with teaching, conduct more service, and keep up with advances in their fields—has become one of the most important concerns in higher education. The expanded faculty role affects faculty grassroots leadership by providing less time for efforts that do not formally fall within the expectations of teaching, research, and service. The participant who in the preceding quotation described the increase in expectations for publishing and doing research continued her comments with an emphasis on the conflicts between teaching and the rising expectations. Her comments reinforced national research by Schuster and Finkelstein (2006) and by Gappa, Austin, and Trice (2007) about the rising demands for research across all institutional types and the increasing productivity demands on faculty in general. She noted: When people came here twenty or thirty years ago, their primary job was to teach. But we cannot do that, we are expected to do everything—publish, get grants, service, loads of service, and teach. You can’t be a scholar and teach three lectures and a lab and grade all the papers and serve on committees and play a leadership role. Something has to give.

Pressures to increase productivity in an area of faculty triad—teaching, research, and service—often create conflicts in other areas, such as faculty grassroots leadership. The complexity of faculty work often pulls them away from their change activities. While some faculty (and staff) become overburdened and burn out from their change work, others find creative solutions to integrating the multiple aspects of their jobs and their change activities. For example, several grassroots leaders integrated their teaching and change efforts by altering their course curricula to educate students about their change



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effort. Student affairs staff noted similar tactics, such as by tailoring student programming toward a specific theme related to their change efforts. By doing so, faculty and staff were able to meet the job requirements within the expanded role and continue their initiatives. Rise in Contingent Faculty Contingent faculty also have an impact on faculty grassroots leadership. There is a significant increase in the number of non–tenure track faculty (both part time and full time) on campuses who often have other fulltime jobs, may work at several universities, are generally not compensated for service and governance (non–tenure track full-time faculty are sometimes compensated), and are often actively excluded from service or governance. For these reasons, non–tenure track faculty find it difficult to become involved in campus-specific issues and organizational leadership (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). While the specific number is unknown, as that number is changing and non–tenure track appointments keep increasing, it is known that over half the faculty are off the tenure track, and it is likely that, by 2011, close to two-thirds of the faculty are no longer in tenure track appointments and generally have minimal opportunity and no expectations for leadership (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). While over half of the non–tenure track faculty are part time, the full-time non–tenure track faculty numbers are increasing by the largest percentage across all sectors, particularly four-year institutions. While the trend varies according to institutional type, this trend is happening across all institutions, including research universities (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). The numbers of non–tenure track appointments have steadily grown in recent years, and, as Schuster and Finkelstein concluded, “Term-limited full-time faculty have become the modal type of full-time appointments for new entrants into the academic career” (2006, p. 195). Several faculty noted the contingent faculty’s lack of participation in campus affairs: Involvement in leadership varies by department. It depends a lot on faculty perception of lecturers, which is typically negative. So, I think that’s what we need to be doing, is changing their perception, and then they’re much more open to allowing us to participate in governance, because we are here. Right now, I don’t really have a say, so working for change is hard.

The exclusion of part-time faculty from campus affairs has a negative impact on faculty grassroots leadership, especially when faculty are seeking to create coalitions and establish networks. Non–tenure track

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faculty, while large in number, lack formal and informal power within the organization, and the lack of power proves to be a challenge. Those non–tenure track who are interested in engaging in change find that their status is a barrier. Recall Kathleen’s narrative in Chapter Four. When she was a part-time faculty member, she was unable to engage the curriculum committee in any meaningful discussion. Once she was hired as a full-time faculty member, her power increased, and she was able to move curricular change forward. Moreover, tenured faculty attribute the expansion of their role to the large numbers of non–tenure track faculty who are not given the authority to advise students, engage in departmental and university decision making, and engage in curricular change. Campuses can address this issue by putting policies in place to involve contingent faculty in governance. Different Role and Status between Student and ­Academic Affairs One of the major structural issues that affects staff grassroots leaders is the different role and status between academic and student affairs. The function of the two areas varies: Student affairs generally focus on the social and psychological needs of students and academic affairs on the intellectual needs of students. While many argue that both units are focused on learning (Kuh et al., 1994; Kuh & Whitt, 1988), in practice, on many campuses they inhabit separate spheres. Originally staff in student affairs were often from the faculty, but as that area specialized and became a profession and drew people from outside the faculty there became a greater divide between academic and student affairs. It has been argued that faculty developed suspicion of the expertise of student affairs, and there has been tension between the two divisions for many years (Kuh & Whitt, 1988; Schroeder & Hurst, 1996). The separate function, evolution of a separate career area, and status differential have led to a historical disconnect between the two areas, resulting in a lack of collaboration. Many of the staff in our study discussed the importance of getting faculty involved in their activities to legitimate their work and provide support from academic affairs. The need for faculty is not surprising given that many staff believe that their role is secondary to that of the faculty. Simply, they feel as if they are on the bottom of the hierarchy and need faculty to leverage their power for support. One staff member noted, “For me, especially in the affinity groups, it just has a lot more weight when a faculty is involved in it.” To overcome the lack of



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influence for student affairs efforts, grassroots leaders engage faculty (or academic affairs) to provide legitimacy and support. Another staff member said: Faculty have a lot of power, and they have power that nobody can tell them to shut up because they have tenure, so the cultural center has built strong relationships with faculty in different department, and faculty will stick up for the centers or advocate for the centers.

Staff involved faculty in a variety of ways, including direct advocacy for initiatives in meetings with the administration, faculty affiliates to show symbolic support, and faculty as instructors who engage in efforts within the classroom, such as with service learning. High Turnover An obstacle for grassroots leaders is the rapid and constant turnover of staff and faculty, particularly the non–tenure track faculty. When individuals leave the campus and/or divisions, they take with them institutional memory, knowledge of tactics used to create change, and experience with change efforts. In some divisions, such as student affairs, campuses experienced constant turnover. One group of staff grassroots leaders, who worked on diversity efforts and integrated faculty to promote their efforts and capitalize on faculty authority, was constantly challenged by individuals moving in and out of the institution. A staff member explained: There’s a lot of turnover in Student Affairs, so sometimes you educate someone and then they’re gone, and they haven’t necessarily passed on their institutional knowledge. People advance by changing institutions. It is part of the higher education culture. That’s one hard part. And that’s not just Student Affairs—other divisions as well—and obviously with faculty you get a little bit more stability, if the faculty have tenure, well, they have a little bit more longevity. Then again you have your adjunct faculty and there’s no—there’s no longevity there. Anyway so speaking about our division—there’s that issue to deal with.

Educating individuals on the issues, vision, and efforts to create change can be a long-term process. Without consistency in staff and faculty composition, change efforts are often constantly in the networking and relationship mode and not moving toward adopting other tactics to push forward change. Turnover also has an impact on the informal knowledge of the institution’s history, as well as engagement in particular change efforts. Simply put, the institutional memory is lacking when turnover occurs rapidly.

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Turnover, as one participants described, leaves a lack of understanding of how change work has been done: “Our area is pretty young—­midthirties, so you don’t have that theory of ‘Well, we’ve always done it this way,’ which is bad and good. It is good because we are open to change. It is bad because our institution has a very high turnover rate in staff, lots of interims everywhere. So we have no knowledge of how things get done.” On the one hand, turnover can breed creativity and a desire to create change on a campus. On the other hand, having little knowledge of what work has been accomplished, what tactics have been effective, and the political climate around the change efforts can hamper the work of these new change agents. One way to overcome the challenge of turnover is to capitalize on the new perspectives and experiences of new individuals joining the campus. By getting their buy-in early, grassroots leaders can engage their experience and receive a new and fresh perspective on their tactics used. Also, new individuals can be perceived as neutral to others who actively oppose the efforts and have already stigmatized those longstanding members of the grassroots effort. Groups that establish clear missions and values can also bring in new members and survive after others leave by having a clear idea of their efforts and goals. Finally, organizations and grassroots leaders need to consider organizational learning processes and succession planning to sustain institutional and group memory when people turn over. Documenting progress and actions and keeping historical documents can help to pass on institutional memory. Status Quo Institutional Culture Another obstacle that many grassroots leaders encountered concerns the existence of entrenched practices and beliefs and an organizational culture resistant to change. The academy has a conservative and changeaverse culture that views most new proposals with skepticism. Faculty and staff who had worked in other fields or organizations commented on the conservative climate, and they believed higher education was unusual in its adherence to the status quo. Many participants encountered resistant individuals who were uninterested in any form of change. Several faculty and staff working on multiculturalism at a community college faced challenges from other faculty who believed that the curriculum was “fine, since they received few complaints from students, and the same curriculum seemed to be effective over many decades.” These same faculty members seemed resistant to the idea of engaging in dialogue and participating in the hard work required to change curriculum in a collaborative fashion. One faculty member noted:



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Regardless of what the issue is, they do not want to change. They have no interest in the time that it takes, and they are simply content with their little space in the world, and they don’t want anybody to disrupt that. There is not even an openness to hear about ideas. And these individuals are in a position where they can dig their heels and say “no.”

Often, others did not want to engage in any form of change, regardless of the specific effort or initiative. The conservative culture could be found at all levels of the institution: secretarial staff, entry and middlelevel staff, administrators, and faculty of all ranks. Certainly there was a trend for new faculty and staff to be more open to change, but people commented on how quickly people ossified: “You watch people come in with new ideas, excited, and within a year or two they are just as likely to espouse the status quo as anyone. It is powerful, and people do not realize it is happening to them.” Retirements and turnover in staff and faculty create an opportunity to revise practices and bring in new perspectives. People come in with experiences from other institutions, a new look at existing practices, and a willingness to put in the extra effort to establish new practices and programs. Grassroots leaders, in organizations that have faculty and staff who have been employed for multiple decades, are challenged to find ways to overcome entrenched beliefs. Therefore, turnover can be a challenge when trying to form networks and maintain institutional memory, but turnover can also be an advantage where entrenched beliefs support the status quo. Another useful example of ways to overcome the status quo is related to organizational learning (Senge, 1990). Engaging groups in the process of learning to question taken-for-granted attitudes and beliefs can assist in acknowledging the ineffectiveness of organizational practices and begin dialogue of ways to change those practices. Classroom Mentality Related to a status quo culture is an obstacle grassroots leaders described as a “classroom mentality.” Grassroots leaders noted that faculty, in particular, talked about a needed change and set up dialogues and discussion, but they never moved forward to action. For example, one interviewee described how both faculty and staff attended brown-bag meetings for a change initiative, but faculty had difficulty moving beyond discussion to action. They understood that this challenge reflected faculty members’ roles as classroom teachers, who often discussed social and economic problems in the classroom and perhaps even discussed solutions but never activated any of these ideas. The culture of academe itself is oriented toward discussion, not action. On one ­campus, four

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­ ifferent initiatives were paralyzed in discussion for years and never d moved forward toward any real tangible change. Staff described this challenge as a “classroom mentality,” where faculty can conceptualize an issue but do not necessarily have the knowledge, experience, or perhaps even interest to move it farther. While staff were more likely to notice this obstacle, many grassroots leaders also observed this problem. One staff member reflected on this issue: This may be unique to educational institutions because I have not seen this anywhere else I have worked; faculty can passionately discuss an issue. They set up meeting after meeting, and we continue to discuss the issue, but we never get to action. They get so caught up in the idea—that is what really stalled out diversity initiative, getting caught up in an intellectual dialogue, not an action plan.

Staff and faculty offered suggestions for breaking the classroom mentality. They suggested that when a faculty member is passionate about an idea and wants to lead a discussion that he or she be paired with a more action-oriented faculty member for the meeting, dialogue, or brown bag. As groups form and a dialogue-oriented culture emerges within the groups, they need to be sure that task-oriented people are recruited and respected within the team. Some grassroots groups had open discussions about the balance of task orientation versus dialogue. As we will discuss in the next section of group obstacles, action without enough discussions can lead to trust and relationship problems. It is a delicate balance. obs tacl e s for t e a m s of g r a ssroo t s l e a de r s Most grassroots leadership is practiced within groups or coalitions. Because the leadership has taken place in groups, group dynamics and interactions are important for successful leadership and forward momentum. The organizational barriers we discussed in the previous section shape the obstacles experienced by the group. For example, the expansion of the faculty role, the higher and new expectations of faculty in tenure and promotion, high turnover, and the different status between student and academic affairs can create a significant challenge to relationship building—the establishment of both trust and a common vision needed to have successful grassroots groups (see Figure 6.2). Interpersonal issues arise from the institutional hierarchy that separates academic and student affairs and from intergenerational conflicts from turnover. Divergent visions, group consciousness, and solidarity emerge from the need to conduct more relationship building. Groups were challenged to find the time for relationship building given the expansion of



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Organizational obstacles

Intergroup conflict Divergent visions Groups consciousness and solidarity Figure 6.2.  Relationship between organizational and group obstacles.

the faculty role. Finally, balkanization or the separation of groups into parts arises primarily from divergent visions and intergroup conflict, made larger by the division of faculty into more subgroups—part-time, full-time non–tenure track, and tenure track—and the constant turnover of staff. In this regard, the organizational level creates the group level obstacles, which can lead to balkanization. In the following sections, we detail the obstacles that specific groups encounter when operating on the grassroots level. Interpersonal Issues in Teams Grassroots leaders, working in groups or teams, encounter interpersonal issues within their groups that can lead to unsuccessful initiatives, a splintering of the group, or dismantling of the groups altogether. Three interpersonal issues were prevalent in our research: style differences, competition, and intergenerational conflicts. The interpersonal issues discussed here reflect the most prevalent ones, rather than an exhaustive list. The first interpersonal issue within teams was a difference in approach to leadership and change. One participant described the tension that arose when individuals with vastly different communication styles and past conflicts attempt to work in a group: Certainly, when you work in a group over a long period of time, there are personal tensions that arise around styles of work and histories, and we all have our different ways of being. Some of us—just in terms of style of speaking— some of us are very careful and very tactful; some of us are very blunt and

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direct; and just all the different ways that people can rub each other the wrong way, and we never really took time to work through a lot of those things.

Many grassroots leaders are activists off campus and participate in direct activism (that is, protests, sit-ins, and so on). They develop a direct style that is more aligned with persuading groups to engage in direct activism that can often be perceived as antagonistic. When they work on college campuses with more tempered individuals, their colleagues’ tempered approach and lack of willingness to directly challenge the status quo may be difficult for the more confrontational leaders to appreciate. Moreover, faculty and staff often have long tenures at their institutions and can develop personal and political conflicts over many decades. When theses individuals get together in a group and attempt to work together, those conflicts can come to the foreground and prevent relationship building and cohesiveness within the group. Another manifestation of interpersonal issues in teams is the competition that arises when multiple groups are competing for limited resources and/or similar change initiatives (this obstacle also overlaps with organizational obstacles around resources). These groups are often based on identities, such as race or gender, and feel disempowered within the institution. The actual status of their office, job, or center is uneasy within the institution, and they often compete for the same resources. One student affairs staff member described the conflicts between the different cultural centers on campus. She explained that the various identity-based centers (that is, women’s and diversity centers) had little resources for staff and often functioned with one or two parttime workers. The competition led to increased strife among the staff. She explained: Because of all those identity politics, they were very competitive with one another, they were very secretive with one another, they were very distrustful of one another, they all wanted to be the favorite, they all wanted to look the best, and not to be—you know, they were afraid that any moment their center would be shut down.

Overcoming the interpersonal issues and creating cohesive and cooperative teams proved to be a serious obstacle for many of the groups. The competition inherent in the “survival tactics,” as described in the preceding quotation, and the differences in styles had to be addressed before the groups could undergo any strategic change efforts. The survival tactics also play out when financial and human resources are scarce and different groups on campus struggle for the attention of administrators making the decisions regarding resources and compete for involvement from the few full-time faculty who are engaged with working with stu-



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dent affairs, especially when turnover is high. Relationship building is a significant aspect of group development, establishing goals, and developing a vision. One of the more prominent interpersonal concerns among the groups is the emergence of generational conflicts. Several of the teams within our study had been established for over a decade, changing their composition to include individuals from multiple generations. The community college grassroots group originally consisted of women who were working at the institution fifteen years ago; the hiring of new faculty with similar interests created a more diverse team with new faculty. These two groups—the senior faculty with a long tenure at the institution and the new junior faculty—viewed the change process quite differently. One of the older faculty members described the tension: Well, one of the interesting tensions that has occurred—and this is really a fascinating dynamic—there is a kind of a lack of concern on the part of some of our younger folks on how we got here, the history, the strategy that was used to get here. They don’t get that. So that’s one of the tensions that’s been created. The older folks are saying the initiatives they are wanting the group to work on, and the younger people resent being told what to do. But the younger people do not fully understand the issues.

The preceding quotation is from one of the older members of the group. She expressed a lack of consideration from the new and younger members with regards to the hard work that they have achieved over the last fifteen years. The newer members had a different perspective; one of the younger women noted: I think there’s been, within the feminist movement, the younger generation and the older generation butting heads. So, sometimes I really feel like I have to prove myself, or my voice really isn’t being heard, so I think that’s been a challenge.

The younger and newer member of the group perceived a hierarchy where she had to “prove herself to be heard.” This conflict played out in all actions of the group, as they often disagreed on strategies, vision, and ways to move forward. While generational conflicts have emerged as a conflict for grassroots activists in general, some grassroots groups are especially sensitive because they rely heavily on healthy group dynamics and strong interpersonal relationships. For example, groups who focused on politically sensitive topics that are connected to individual identity, such as issues of race or sexuality, often required a trusting environment where individuals could feel supported as they experienced backlash, racism, sexism, or

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other forms of discrimination during their change efforts. To overcome the intergenerational conflicts, several groups engaged in dialogues to discuss the differing views on change tactics and to deconstruct their differences about their change initiative. One group engaged in readings and met regularly to discuss the readings and their own personal views. The discussions were often contentious and difficult, but they resolved the conflicts and created more group solidarity, as discussed in the following section. Another less time-consuming tactic is to be intentional about group composition and attempt to engage individuals who do not have past conflicts. Divergent Visions Another obstacle for groups was divergent visions—the existence of multiple and competing perceptions regarding the appropriate direction of the group. Divergent visions manifested in differing styles and approaches used to create change by group members, a lack of an articulated single vision, and buy-in for a singular vision. Creating a shared vision was difficult among groups that had unaddressed interpersonal issues, as described in the previous section. Another major reason for a lack of a common vision, beyond the interpersonal issues, is the pace of change on some campuses. Because some of the initiatives moved quickly and directly, the teams did not always have an opportunity to engage in extended dialogues about direction or the various ways the team would communicate their message. When disagreement emerged, the team members were more likely to depart or disengage from the activities rather than open up dialogue to address tensions. Members of the team expressed concern that, in moving so quickly, they never really had complete agreement on the vision or consensus about what they were trying to achieve. One member explained: It makes it hard for us to move together when we move so quickly. It just seems like we never really fully came together on a vision for where we’re going or how to achieve our goals. Very quickly [the team leader] came up with an approach, and we all ended up agreeing, whether we really did or not.

In addition, the effort became more leader dependent. Because the team did not have an opportunity to create a vision, they often relied heavily on a single leader to guide the efforts of the team, and in the end this approach failed when the team leader focused on other priorities. Divergent visions may also occur within grassroots teams that have a strong sense of cohesiveness and strong relationships as new unanticipated challenges emerged. The group of women working toward diver-



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sity on the community college campus underwent all of the important strategies of relationship building and trust. Yet once their efforts to diversify the campus became a part of the college strategic plan, their identity as a grassroots team was challenged, and their vision seemed no longer relevant. Some women wanted to remain a grassroots group, and others were fine with institutionalizing the effort; so they had two divergent views. Institutionalizing their efforts moved them away from their group identity and challenged the very core of their values: Over the last couple years there’s been a moment of, “Gosh, we’re kinda no longer that underground. There’s a lot of key people in very key positions. What do we do with this?” We don’t actually know how to do the fully inside—some of us are now actually, formal leaders. How do you do that? I don’t think we’re really there with that yet, and some of it may be that we are successful and no longer need a grassroots presence—we do not always have to feel the need to fight for change. I don’t know; we have not figured this out as a group and are a bit lost.

While some individuals were comfortable with working with the administration in more positional leadership roles, others valued their identity as grassroots activists. Divergent visions do not occur just at the beginning of a new grassroots groups; divergent visions may occur at any point where a significant change occurs within the group’s methods and composition. To create or maintain a common vision, successful grassroots groups used a collaborative leadership style within the group to allow for dialogues to occur, sorting different views and building trust. Some change efforts, particularly those that converge with the top-down (see Chapter Six), must move quickly to capitalize on attention and resources. Establishing networks prior to these moments, building relationships, and establishing trust are crucial to finding a common vision that will last even as the effort changes from grassroots to more mainstream. For those groups that exist for many years and undergo change, such as the multicultural group at the community college, consistent discussions and intentional conversations when change occurs can help to avoid divergent visions that stall change. Group Consciousness and Solidarity Related to divergent visions is the challenge of creating group consciousness and a shared vision among diverse groups of people. Grassroots leaders come together from across various units on campus. Groups regularly consisted of staff and faculty from different units or disciplines. Individuals may have vastly different perspectives on the issue, ways to

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approach change efforts, and values around the issue. They are challenged to create group cohesiveness and a shared vision that are essential to confront internal and external resistance. One of the reasons that group consciousness is difficult to manage is related to the extra commitment and time to engage in dialogue. A member noted: Because we meet after work or on our free time, well, it adds on, and many people have other responsibilities—kids, elderly parents—and it’s hard to tell them to take the extra time. But if we don’t, then we do not know each other well enough and get off track. But that is a real tension.

Many groups worked on issues that were not sanctioned (and are often unknown) by the administration. They must work on the strategies and efforts on their own time, only after completing their regular job requirements. The dialogue, trust-building activities, and other work ­require even more time. Also, grassroots groups may form based on committee structures, such as those found in faculty governance. Committees often have a short life span and will dissolve before the group solidarity can be created to exist outside the formal committee structure. Also, the academic calendar presents a challenge, as faculty leave for the summer and groups often disband for months, losing their momentum and solidarity. Several groups noted that a successful method for creating a group consciousness and solidarity is to engage in intragroup dialogues to build trust. While some groups used pointed dialogues about race and other social identities to uncover and address racial tension, others used less organized and more personal dialogues to build trust. A member of a group of pretenure women, who advocated for salary equity and treatment, explained how they began: Yeah, first it was lunches, “Let’s have lunch and talk about what’s going on in our lives.” One of my colleagues, she got pregnant, and then I got pregnant six months later. I was trying to get pregnant. So we were talking about the process. I ended up having twins last year, and she has a little girl as well. And then one of my colleagues has two young girls, and then the other colleague, she and her partner have a young girl who’s like five years old. At first, it was just talking about our isolation and just getting to know each other.

Once trust was built among this group of women faculty, they engaged in additional dialogues about the tenure process and struggles. Eventually they formalized the group as a committee with a shared vision and set of initiatives (that is, promoting salary equity for women). Their dialogues helped to establish the important shared vision and to create cohesiveness and cooperation on a similar set of initiatives.



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One cannot assume that members of a certain groups (such as women or people of color) have consciousness about the change initiative. For example, establishing groups who seemingly share perspectives can result in challenges if resistance among some is not anticipated. One participant advised the first group of young women on a campus to form a National Organization for Women (NOW) chapter. She described a campus culture that was “still largely male dominated,” which challenged the students to persevere in spite of significant opposition to the establishment of the chapter. She described the source of the resistance: Surprisingly enough, I think probably most of the resistance, or a great percentage, came from the women on campus, because I don’t think there was much education ever provided to women to make them value their womanness. So educating them became an issue.

Other women on the campus, who did not see a need for the NOW chapter or who had very divergent notions of the vision of the chapter, were a large part of the resistance. This finding is surprising given that the campus was largely male dominated. Intra- and intergroup dialogues are helpful in establishing solidarity but are not the panacea for relationship building. Groups must establish guidelines for discussion and debrief to manage the discriminatory beliefs that may arise in these dialogues. Creating rules for dialogue and trust-building exercises are important tactics for managing these difficult, yet beneficial, conversations. obs tacl e s for i n di v i dua l g r a ssroo t s l e a de r s While the obstacles discussed in the preceding pages represent the challenges that grassroots leaders encountered on the organizational and group level, grassroots leaders also expressed individual barriers to creating change. These obstacles represent the emotional toll that activism takes and a feeling of being overburdened. Many of the obstacles represented here are found in Meyerson’s (2003) book on tempered radicals but in our discussion are connected to the organizational and group-level obstacles on campuses discussed earlier. For example, grassroots leaders often face greater interpersonal obstacles and difficulties to establishing a common vision when attempting to work in the very disparate and fragmented subcultures within the academy. Or grassroots leaders find that the effort needed to develop trust and build relationships is too time consuming given the high expectations associated with their expanded role as faculty members. Therefore, they may opt to work individually and encounter obstacles of being overburdened with the immense

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­ roject they have undertaken and having difficulty finding resources p because of their low placement in the institutional hierarchy. We mention these individual obstacles here to illustrate their differences as they emerge in higher education institutions. Many of the ways to overcome these individual obstacles are detailed in Chapter Nine on resiliency. Emotional Toll A significant challenge for many of the grassroots leaders is emotional strain. Often the work of grassroots leaders takes many years of action to accomplish. They encounter criticism for their actions, constant battles with those individuals defending the status quo, and disagreements about change strategies. Each of these experiences creates an emotional burden. Two sources of the emotional toll are the time it takes to create change and the constant battles from multiple sources: faculty, staff, and administrators. One participant who worked on diversity initiatives on three different campuses described her perspective: I have been doing this for thirty years; I have been through it all. But you have to realize this takes time. I was at the first institution eight years and made some changes, but then the climate changed, and I knew that was as far as I was going to get. I moved here and have been working on diversity eighteen years. We have made a lot of changes, but it has been eighteen years—eighteen years of administrators threatening me, personal attacks, and lots of stress.

Most of the grassroots leaders understand and anticipate conflict when attempting to change the practices of an institution and the beliefs of individuals. Yet the time that it takes to create change, often five or more years, creates a constant and long-term experience with conflict. This participant often considered quitting her job. Emotional toll may even stem from allies, creating further strain. One participant, who helped to start and was intimately involved in a LGBT center, attempted to work with other diversity centers (that is, multicultural centers and the like). One year, she was planning World AIDS Day, and a colleague wanted to plan an abstinence program as part of the event. She explained her perspective and how this event made her realize her own emotional limitations: What bothered me was I said, “Abstinence until when? Until you get married? Because, you know what, gay people can’t get married. So in your doing your abstinence program, and you are supposedly so aware of cross-cultural issues and issues of diversity and inclusion and all of this, you are very definitely leaving out a good portion of people, and I just don’t like that.” We had a pretty good-sized disagreement about it.



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She believed this colleague and ally had a certain consciousness around LGBT issues; yet he completely misunderstood the politics of gay marriage. She felt a burden to educate the college community and felt as though she was not making gains within her own ally group. She grew tired: “I just thought I need a break.” One of the reasons for the emotional toll is the engagement in efforts of deep personal interest that blurs the lines between the grassroots leaders’ personal life and work. The same participant who worked on creating the LGBT center explained the emotional difficulty advocating for students with HIV and AIDS to divulge their medical status. Her goal was to reduce the stereotypes of people with HIV and AIDS, but the unintended toll grew when the students grew ill. She explained: Well, also, one other factor in me leaving was when I started, I used to sing in a gay and lesbian choir, and I lost men friends to HIV and AIDS, but the young people didn’t have it because they were smarter than that, and they had been raised. They knew better. They had all the information. I started having the students come in with HIV and full-blown AIDS. I am not ready for this. I am not ready to have twenty-year-olds get sick on me. That was disturbing.

An outcome of the emotional toll is losing the commitment that manifested in maintaining a focus on a specific initiative. A difficult challenge contributing to emotional toll is the personal energy to keep up momentum over the long term. Often, individuals were able to advertise and obtain visibility for an initiative, thereby creating campuswide interest. For example, one group presented to departments across the campus to promote a learning-centered initiative. As the initiative aged and other institutional priorities emerged, keeping the focus on learningcenteredness became difficult: So that was the biggest challenge, and then keeping it alive, because four years is a long time, so you’d have these events, and everybody gets excited, and then everybody would go back and start doing their things, and it would go down, and then you’d have another event, and everybody gets excited. So keeping the ball rolling, keeping the momentum going, being very premeditated about that . . .

Keeping the campus engaged over long periods of time is a difficult task because many other priorities exist within colleges and universities. Grassroots leaders may be committed, as in the preceding example, but they face challenges in keeping others in the institution focused on and committed to the specific change effort. Individuals may continue to be committed, but engagement begins to wane, and the significance declines in the minds of other faculty and staff.

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Feeling Overburdened A major challenge that grassroots leaders encounter is the conflict between normal work expectations and activist work. Most grassroots leaders are conducting their activist activities outside their normal work expectations. Moreover, several of the leaders engaged in groups or teams (explained more fully in the following discussion) that require intense relationship building. One participant explained this challenge: We do a third shift, that’s why it’s difficult. It’s more work. Our jobs are hard enough anyway; we do a regular job. But then we have to meet, and we have to put energy in strategizing, and that creates another interaction between two, three, four, five people; we have to write; we have to read; we have to do all of these extra things. You have to do a third shift; your work is never finished, so that’s the hardship, and I’m getting old. I’m really tired.

The third shift comes after work (first shift) and home responsibilities (second shift) and is done in the evening and on the weekends. Some grassroots leaders find ways to integrate their work lives with the activist work but still find that extra time is required. For example, some academic advisors will network with financial aid officers to help students of color navigate through the different financial aid options. Yet establishing those networks takes time that often happens during that third shift. Substantial numbers of grassroots leaders are considered “tokens” in their institutions. They are one of either the few people of color or women within their institutions or units (that is, college or department). Research has documented the overburden that many faculty of color encounter and the increase of service activities (Baez, 2000). Grassroots leaders have increased visibility for their token status and/or their commitment to specific issues. A faculty person described the conflict: I’m a mentor in Girls Excelling in Math and Science (GEMS) club and Movimiento Estudiantil Chicano de Aztlán (MEChA); my colleagues are always overextended, so whenever there’s a Latino conference, we’re always the ones to be called. That’s part of our responsibility, and we see it as part of our responsibility on campus, but it also means we’re overextended, and there’s not enough of us to do this work. We often don’t get to see the sort of credit that we deserve.

Grassroots leaders are committed to their causes and willingly agree to the extra advocacy work; yet the additional time makes them overburdened by multiple responsibilities. As we will discuss in later chapters, tenure track faculty often shy away from highly visible change activities because they are unable to maintain a deep commitment and take on additional service work while also trying to achieve tenure and promotion.



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Resources Prevalent in all the narratives of grassroots leaders was the challenge of resources. Human and capital resources were often missing and made change difficult to achieve. Most grassroots leaders had to find creative methods for finding basic resources to push forward initiatives. Individuals volunteered their time outside of work, students donated part of their activities budget, and staff and faculty wrote grants, among other contributions. One powerful example concerns a grassroots leader, a woman who worked for campus police, who volunteered her time outside work to create a LGBT center. After several years, she succeeded in her initiative, and the police department gave her a small space and a part-time student assistant. She explained: We had nothing. No start-up money. I went back to the chief, and I said, “What are we supposed to do?” And she said, “Take what you need. Take paper. Take a stapler. Go get what you need out of the cupboards.” The police department gave us our start-up stuff. We had this tiny little room. It was really truly this big [gestures to indicate a small space]. The police department gave us our start-up stuff. We scrounged, and for years I scrounged things. It was cool because people used to actually e-mail me if they were getting rid of office furniture, “Does the Pride Center need anything?” For a while I was cranking it in because people just knew that we had not been given anything, so they gave us stuff.

This grassroots leader found support in the police department, the location of her full-time job. Other departments on campus also recognized the need to support the center by donating furniture and supplies. Without this support, the center would not have had any resources to provide services to the campus LGBT community. Control over resources was most evident for those grassroots leaders who were aware of the ways that funding is modified to circumvent change efforts. One participant described how administrators use money to manage change: OK, on a university campus, that’s a bureaucracy like this one; they never make sweeping changes. They kill you by attrition. They kill you by withholding resources. They kill you by chopping your budget in half. They kill you by not allowing you to replace staff positions as they leave, so it’s a death by atrophy rather than, “We are making this leadership decision, and this is what we’re doing.” They’re never up front about it, it seems like. OK, not ever, that’s an absolute, but rarely are they up front. So my employer was being atrophied to death at that time.

Grassroots leaders, as noted in the tactics section in Chapter Five, found creative ways to fund their initiatives. Other departments, such as the

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police department, would provide supplies to fund an officer’s involvement in a student center, speakers would be brought in as a part of an annual event to reflect the values of the change initiative, and groups would cobble together funds from multiple sources to put on a larger event. But grassroots leaders also faced the strategic removal of resources to prevent these creative methods of funding. At the heart of the barriers of resources is control. One participant described control: Yeah, that’s a biggie, because sometimes you don’t have any control of it [resources]. The only control you have is to try to find money somewhere else, write and write and rewrite for grants, and go to other departments and get your boss to ask other departments if they would help you with the funding for your position until we can find some more money.

conclusion Each faculty or staff grassroots leader encountered challenges and obstacles on his or her path to creating change. The obstacles are directly related to the current status of academe and the organizational barriers that make change work so difficult. Academic capitalism, which has influenced the expansion of faculty work, has created an emphasis on legitimacy gained through research and grant seeking, and the increased importance of publishing has had an impact on the time available and the legitimacy given to grassroots efforts. Faculty in this study were acutely aware of the culture of productivity and the tension between productivity and other forms of service. Staff felt a need to bridge the gap between the different status and roles of academic and student affairs, high turnover, and an entrenched status quo. Each of these organizational obstacles created an environment that made it difficult for anyone to pursue change. As highlighted in this chapter, the organizational barriers made the time-consuming process of relationship and trust building difficult and often pushed groups toward change too quickly, before trust could be established. When trust was not developed, intragroup strife emerged. Due to the challenge of inter- and intragroup dynamics, people branched out as individuals, which had its own costs. Those individuals then encountered the difficulties of too much work, too few resources, and too much burden for an individual to handle. Yet the story of these challenges and obstacles is incomplete without an understanding that most, if not all, of the grassroots leaders found ways to overcome these barriers. Many faculty members used research and grant seeking to establish credibility that would allow for activism



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to challenge the status quo. Staff overcame many of the barriers by establishing and creating faculty allies and establishing a larger network with more authority within the institutional hierarchy. Similar to faculty, staff also integrated their work, such as their student programming, to reflect their change efforts. The message in this chapter is that challenges and obstacles are formidable but can be overcome using the tactics described in Chapter Five and the sources of resiliency found in Chapter Nine.

chapter seven

Encounters with Authority and Power Ways Grassroots Leaders Navigate Resistance and Oppression

; In Chapter Four, we introduced Jane, who had been working on advancing issues related to gender, sexuality, and sexual harassment for many years at Polytech Institute. Jane has long struggled with navigating institutional resistance and power conditions. She began her work within the church and experienced years of institutional sexism—“which was unbelievably painful and humiliating, and made [her] angry.” In coming to higher education, she hoped that perhaps she might experience less gender-based discrimination. While telling her story about developing a sexual harassment policy, domestic partner benefits, and working for gender equality, she noted that she often felt her job had been in jeopardy because people who did not agree with her perspective often complained to her supervisors and tried to put her in a negative light. Also, she could tell countless stories about microaggressions she experienced: verbal abuse, rumors being started about her, and discounting behaviors that have made her question whether she could continue her work to create change. Jane’s story reminds us that one of the major obstacles that grassroots leaders face is navigating power dynamics or conditions. Because this is such a distinctive challenge that was brought up by most of the interviewees, we highlight this obstacle within this chapter. We focus our discussion in two main areas: (1) describing the types of power dynamics or conditions that staff and faculty leaders face (that is, threats of being fired and workplace bullying); and (2) ways that grassroots leaders navigated these power conditions.1 Many faculty and staff noted that understanding and naming the power dynamics that they encounter was itself useful and helpful for other grassroots leaders. Awareness and un-



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derstanding of power assists in navigating these dynamics. It often took decades for leaders to learn techniques to overcome power conditions. As a result, they wanted to convey and share this information to help future change agents. They also believed knowledge of power dynamics (both naming it and navigating it) was significant to their success and would be significant to others. The faculty and staff leaders hoped to save others from the painful and lengthy experience of learning to navigate power. Power and oppression are particularly salient concepts when describing and trying to understand conditions for grassroots leaders as they create change (Astin & Leland, 1991; Hart, 2005; Hill, 1994; Safarik, 2003; Wolf-Wendel et al., 2004). When you engage in changes that challenge the status quo or perceived status quo, this can cause people to push back and resist. Employees with less authority can be more at risk because they are potentially more vulnerable with less institutional or even informal power to address the backlash. 2 In this chapter, we highlight the unique ways that staff (particularly custodial and administrative staff) are vulnerable to power conditions on campus because of their status in the institutional hierarchy. In contrast, some faculty, due to their professional status and tenure, are protected from the worst of the power conditions. In this chapter, we highlight how the findings from this study advance the literature on tempered radicals and grassroots leadership. As noted in Chapter Two, the tempered radicals framework does not directly address power or power dynamics. Our study squarely addresses the different types of power dynamics that grassroots leaders in institutional settings encounter and the particular approaches that grassroots leaders take to overcome power conditions. In Meyerson’s work, the primary way to adjust to power conditions is to temper one’s approach. Instead, we describe a gamut of approaches that grassroots leaders use to navigate power dynamics or conditions. The investigation of power dynamics within institutional settings is one of the major contributions of the study. While the grassroots literature does describe power conditions, the examples and descriptions provided are sometimes less applicable to institutional settings, where overt use of power (physical abuse and violence) is looked on unfavorably. This is not to say that we did not find oppression happening with more vulnerable groups on campus (for example, custodial staff); we did find examples of people’s jobs being lost and harassment. But our study also uncovered subtle, more covert forms of abusive power used by various individuals to deter grassroots leaders that are often not described in the grassroots literature. We tried

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to make the subtle uses of power more understandable by interpreting them as a form of institutionalized oppression (described more in this chapter). Institutionalized forms of oppression are normalized, and often people do not recognize the regular and ongoing forms of oppression that occur. Our study found that power dynamics appear to have a significant impact on bottom-up change, particularly staff-led initiatives. The severe forms of oppression and silencing that staff face lead to turnover, lack of leadership for the initiative, and weakened resiliency of individuals involved in the change. We also heard many stories about initiatives that had failed because of intense power dynamics. We know less about many of these initiatives because they were unable to generate enough momentum for us to capture stories about them. Staff efforts also often took longer than they had hoped (usually fifteen years or longer), and they did not always reach their goals. Our research demonstrates that many staff-led bottom-up changes are squelched before they get very far off the ground. Faculty-led initiatives are much less likely to feel the impact of oppression and overt power dynamics; this is assumed to be because of the greater professional power they have on campus. Most faculty-led initiatives failed because of ideological differences, inability to generate enough support among faculty, and other reasons rather than the power dynamics. However, power dynamics did have an impact on the resiliency of bottom-up faculty leaders. The constant barrage of microaggressions (small continuous bombardments of abuse, such as negative comments) led to them having to come in and out of leadership roles, retreating for a year or two to restore their energy. Because of these significant impacts, it is critical to devote an entire chapter to this issue. Before describing our findings, we briefly describe two areas of literature that informed our analysis about power dynamics, institutionalized domination or oppression and bullying or incivility. We recognize there are other literature bases related to power, which is one of the most studied concepts in the social sciences. In particular there are recent critiques of top-down authority–based views of power in which those in authority have power and influence and those without formal authority have less power and influence, for example. The literature we review on institutionalized domination reflects this greater authority and topdown view of power that is often associated with Marx and other critical theorists. Authors such as Foucault (and other poststructuralists) ­argue that power is part of everyday existence and that those without formal authority exert power and attempt to influence more often than has been traditionally conceptualized and perhaps have greater power than



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was often detected in earlier studies that saw those in formal authority as invested with more power (Foucault, Hurley, & Faubion, 2001). Power is also seen less as a zero-sum game where some people have it and others do not, or the perception is that only a certain amount of power exists that needs to be carefully controlled or measured (Astin & Leland, 1991). The literature on bullying reflects this more multidimensional approach to power dynamics that happens between co-workers day to day and that identifies the way people throughout an organization exert power—also from the bottom up. 3 It is also important to note that this chapter is focused on power dynamics—when people collide in organizational settings—not just the concept of power. As noted in Chapter Two, the tactics and strategy mentioned in Chapter Five are examples of power or the way people exert control within their environment to achieve a goal. Here we are focused on a particular obstacle that people noted in their environment as power dynamics—often more specifically collisions with authority. This chapter focuses more on pathologies or abuses of power conditions, as that is what people mentioned in the interviews as a barrier. Power dynamics can also be positive, where people try to influence the environment and interact in ways that further a goal. Also, negative power dynamics are typically not highlighted in higher education research and, as Morgan (1997) claims, remain invisible to most people. We believed it was important to highlight these power dynamics that are often ignored in more pragmatically oriented research that seeks to develop solutions and focus on positive dynamics. con t e x t for u n de r s ta n di ng p ow e r dy n a m ic s Studies of organizations demonstrate how organizations can be instruments of domination in routine and everyday ways: the routine exploitation of employees, such as the class-based and hierarchical structure of organizations; the division of management and employees; the staggering inequality in pay; the history of work hazards, occupational disease, and industrial accidents; the abuse and exploitation by multinational corporations in other countries, particularly in the Third World; and the push toward workaholism and social or mental stress (Morgan, 1997). All of these forms of power are embedded into institutional polices and practices, and people often see them as common behaviors. Institutional managers or those in positions of power tend to form and shape much of the institutionalized forms of power. Because domination is institutionalized people do not notice or react to power dynamics elites

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or ­managers inflict within organizations. We imagine that many people reading this book will be equally surprised and confused, having never thought about the fact that organizations (and people within them) can and do operate in abusive and oppressive ways routinely and unintentionally, perhaps even unconsciously. We questioned whether domination by top-down leaders toward grassroots leaders would go unnoticed by many and not be perceived as problematic. Elites and managers in organizations often resist changes to the status quo, particularly any changes that would shift existing power relationships (Morgan, 1997). This is not to say organizations are static. They often change as a result of environmental changes, such as legislators implementing a new policy (often most readily as these are seen as important to maintaining resources). Also, institutions often change as a result of feedback and organizational learning mechanisms designed for improving organizational function and increasing profits (Morgan, 1997). Yet most of these changes are incorporated into the status quo of operations as much as possible. The underlying structure and cultures of institutions go untouched, and elites’ interests tend to prevail even as changes are made. However, faculty and staff grassroots leaders may have different interests from administrators (who represent the elite or managers within higher education institutions).4 Administrators have hierarchical power and privilege within the organization. In overt and subtle ways, intentionally and unintentionally, administrators make decisions that support the corporate interests of the university and undermine the interests of faculty and staff.5 Many recent researchers (Kezar, 2004; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004) have documented the corporate and managerial interests of administrators and the many decisions made that support profit-making activities within the university. Administrators have also increasingly taken power away from faculty and staff traditionally provided through shared governance. It should also be noted that faculty and staff can be considered separate classes and that some faculty have more power, based on their professionalized status and tenure system. Faculty are likely to exert power and oppression on staff, and tenured faculty may also exert power toward nontenured faculty.6 Therefore, power relations are complex, responding to a series of different hierarchies and classifications within organizations (and society). The normalization of domination and oppression, the resistance to changes that challenge the status quo, and the potentially differing interests between faculty and staff and the administration (and between other groups on campus) suggest that the grassroots faculty and staff leaders are likely to experience abusive power dynamics in their efforts



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to create bottom-up change. Morgan (1997) predicts that groups that attempt to change the status quo will experience power conditions, likely oppression, because those in privileged positions may perceive that actions could affect their status (vis à vis changing power conditions) or perceive actions as a threat to their authority. Whether changing the status quo will actually alter an elite’s privilege is almost not important. Change (not sanctioned by those in power) is threatening to the dominant social order. Our assumption, within the study, was that it was important to examine and understand what kind of reaction grassroots faculty and staff leaders received from those in positions of power. The invisibility and normalization of the power dynamics may lead to power having increased influence. In addition to oppression being institutionalized as part of the organization and enacted by managers and administrators, we also conceptualized power as being interpersonal and happening between groups— perhaps without formal authority. A variety of scholars have more recently examined this interpersonal oppression and power dynamics as bullying (Hearn & Parkin, 2001; Twale & De Luca, 2008). Bullying is the tendency of individuals or groups to use persistent aggressive or unreasonable behavior against a co-worker (Namie, 2007; Namie & Namie, 2004; Needham, 2004). The reasons for this oppressive behavior vary, but one reason noted is co-workers who try to change existing norms. A wide variety of forms of bullying exist from the silent treatment to screaming or cursing, destruction of property or work product, social ostracism, and even physical assault (Namie, 2007; Namie & Namie, 2004; Needham, 2004). Some forms of bullying are more covert, including actions like manipulation of holiday schedules, being unfairly critical of a worker in front of other people, having unrealistic work demands, or spreading rumors about a co-worker. Bullying can be difficult to control or identify (particularly the less overt) because workplace bullying typically operates within the established rules and policies of the organization. Twale and DeLuca (2008) argue that the turn toward a corporate culture of the academy is making incivility and bullying grow in prominence because there is greater competition for resources, less emphasis on collegiality and consensus, and less power among certain groups (such as faculty who are now largely off the tenure track). Their research synthesis suggests that incivility and bullying will be even more significant on campuses today and that individuals who attempt to change the status quo are likely to experience great measures of bullying from colleagues. Based on this literature, we assumed that faculty members and staff might use bullying tactics to prevent other faculty and staff from

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c­ reating change. We assumed that many faculty and staff may not realize that bullying was occurring or may not have a way to conceptualize this interpersonal form of oppression because it is relatively new as an acknowledged form of abuse. To understand how grassroots leaders navigate power, it is first important to understand the types and nature of power conditions that faculty and staff grassroots leaders face. We organize the chapter by first describing five different types of power conditions that faculty and staff face, noting that staff experience much greater and severe power abuses. We highlight trends we saw in the data related to how certain change initiatives seem to elicit more power conditions. Following is a description of the impact of power conditions on change initiatives and the way faculty and staff can navigate power conditions. We end with a description of a case where faculty and staff worked together to successfully navigate power conditions. While the case illustrates many of the power conditions expressed by the grassroots leaders, staff typically worked alone at their own peril (sometimes it was their choice; other times they could recruit few if any faculty to their cause). It is important to remind readers that these are perceptions about power dynamics, and we have no idea what the intentions of actors were, be they administrators, faculty, or staff. People often ascribe intention, but this is merely their impression. n at u r e a n d t y p e of p ow e r dy n a m ic s ­e x p e r i e nc e d by fac u lt y a n d s ta f f We identified five distinctive types of power dynamics—oppression, silencing, controlling, stalling tactics, and microaggressions—that operate on a spectrum from most severe and overt to least severe and overt (see Figure 7.1 for an overview of the types of power dynamics). Some power conditions are clearly abusive, such as oppression, but others are more difficult to characterize, such as stalling or inertia. While these

Oppression

Silencing Controlling Stalling tactics

Most severe/overt Figure 7.1.  Spectrum of power dynamics.

Microaggressions

Less severe/overt



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demonstrate others trying to control the environment in different ways, they are not necessarily abusive. Oppression is distinctly the most abusive, and microaggressions are the least abusive. The other forms of power are more difficult to categorize but appear to fall in between oppression and microaggressions in terms of their severity. This spectrum is meaningful for four reasons. First, different forms of power affect the change process in distinctive ways; stalling tactics and oppression had a much more significant impact and were harder to address. Second, the type of power dynamics is related to different ways of navigating power. It was important for grassroots leaders to be able to identify the power dynamic so that they could develop a strategy that would effectively deal with that form of power. Third, the spectrum and classifying of power conditions also became meaningful because faculty and staff experience different power dynamics, described in more detail in the following discussion. Fourth, different groups have access to (or perceive themselves to have access to) and used different forms of power. Oppression and silencing were used mostly by the administration, whereas control and microaggressions were practiced more by faculty. Staff typically used only microaggressions. Staff experience multiple forms of power dynamics that are extremely difficult to overcome. They also tend to experience more severe forms of power dynamics, such as oppression and silencing. Staff are advised to understand the importance of building coalitions with faculty who experience less severe power dynamics. Faculty should realize the importance of supporting staff on campuses because of the extreme nature of the power dynamics that staff face when they attempt to create change. While faculty and staff tend to retreat to their own subcultures on campus, this can be extremely damaging to bottom-up change efforts. Faculty we spoke with were largely unaware of the power conditions (typically abusive) experienced by staff. Faculty may have been aware of change efforts that staff were leading but were not conscious of their vulnerability and did not think about their responsibility to help or support. Oppression The most extreme form of power dynamics was oppression, characterized by attempts to get the grassroots leaders fired or demoted and to threaten their jobs and livelihood. Oppression was not common and was used almost exclusively on staff members and contingent faculty, particularly in change initiatives led by staff alone. We did identify in-

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stances of tenured faculty members who feared losing their jobs or felt intimidated, but we could not find evidence of tenured faculty members being fired for acting as grassroots leaders. Even though many of the faculty we spoke with were pretenure when they were active as grassroots leaders, they did not experience much overt oppression. Pretenure faculty members describe having to fly underneath the radar and rely more on senior tenured faculty as visible members for the change effort until they got tenure. However, contingent faculty members described fear of oppression and had some specific examples of being pressured to stop working on change or lose their jobs. While we did not hear many stories about contingent faculty losing their jobs, recent stories in Inside Higher Education document instances of contingent faculty being laid off for speaking out about campus policies. Therefore, we feel more research is needed in this area. We do recognize that some faculty members may have been fired, so we were unable to speak with them (thus we do not have the full story), but we did probe existing faculty for these types of stories. Oppression seems to be used with tenured faculty members in rare situations. One campus had several staff working to support a diversity initiative and people spoke about the oppression they experienced regularly over a ten-year period. One staff member commented: “Many people are afraid to speak up now because Jan was demoted after she spoke up at a forum with administrators. Some other staff were let go, and it’s hard to know if it was based on their comments.” One of the techniques for making people silent was to label them as troublemakers, which carried the implicit threat of losing their jobs. One staff member described his experience: “If you speak, you will be labeled a troublemaker by the administration, and they will try to isolate you. Several people told me they can’t talk to me because I’ve been labeled a troublemaker. It’s used as a threat on campus. You don’t want to be a troublemaker like Martha or you might lose your job.” Staff often lived with a fear of losing their jobs if they pursued a change initiative. Another technique of oppression was to intimidate staff who were vocal. On one campus, the staff council chair was usually looked to for nominations of staff to serve on campus committees (a new process based on the emergence of a staff council). The year the board were setting up committees to search for a new president, the staff council was not asked for a representative. The chair contacted the administration to ask why the staff council had not been asked for input on the selection. The next day, the chair of staff council received a FedEx letter from the board of trustees asking to meet with her. She showed up at a meeting with four board of trustees members:



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I’ve never been so afraid in my life. They all sat at one end of the table and told me exactly how the process would be for hiring the new president and reiterated that I did not have input and should not bring this up again. I was literally shaking and was starting to cry. Nothing seemed to deter them; they wanted to get their point across. They wanted to make sure I knew I might lose my job if I pushed the issue.

While faculty were much less often put in a position where their jobs were threatened, we did hear occasional stories. A faculty member told the story about being attacked by a series of colleagues for supporting the reform in the curriculum: Someone in my department circulated a secret petition asking for me to be removed. I found out about it two months later and asked the president to see a copy; it had been forwarded to her. I never got to see it, but supposedly it was related to me causing dissension because I want to diversify the curriculum and violating professional ethics. Twenty-seven people signed it, and most of them don’t even know me. I found out that a bunch of part-time faculty were coerced to sign and told their jobs were on the line. It blew over but was horrible for a while.

This quotation also suggests the vulnerability of contingent faulty who were forced to sign a petition by the department chair. There were several stories about contingent faculty being told they might lose their jobs if they continued to work on changes they cared about. One contingent faculty member commented: I care deeply about reaching out and making a difference in the community we serve. I had been fighting hard for creating more campus and community partnerships. My chair let me know that this “interest” of mine did not fit the politics of the department and that I should look for employment elsewhere if I wanted to pursue this interest. I thought maybe I misunderstood and asked, “So are you saying my job is on the line if I continue this work?” And he said yes.

Silencing The second type of power dynamic is silencing, which is making people feel as if they do not have voice (and power) and minimizing their voice (and power) in various ways. The behaviors associated with silencing made grassroots leaders and groups feel invisible. Interviewees noted that it felt as if the institutional agents were attempting to make them feel powerless, as if the issue they cared about did not exist. Silencing also served to make the grassroots leaders question their own validity or sense of being. Silencing was used most often with staff members. While we occasionally saw silencing behavior with faculty, it was not

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a ­particularly successful strategy because tenured faculty on most campuses already have quite a bit of institutional power and academic freedom, and non–tenure track faculty felt confident about the validity of their issues. Faculty also used outside networks to provide support for issues that they cared about. For example, faculty fighting for environmentalism could contact colleagues across the country who are advocates for the issue. In contrast, on campuses where faculty have much less power and the administration takes a more hierarchical stance, this strategy was occasionally successful in stifling bottom-up change efforts. One campus we visited had a much more hierarchical environment between administrators and faculty, and we saw more silencing behavior exerted toward faculty on that campus. The most prevalent form of silencing was pretending the problem does not exist. A staff member described this issue: “A major obstacle to our reforms is that the administrators will not acknowledge that problems exist. We present them with data, letters from concerned individuals inside and outside the campus, but they refuse to acknowledge there are any problems.” On one campus, the administration was constantly given information about the failure rates of Hispanic and African American students by staff and faculty. Administrators routinely discounted the data (saying they were inaccurate) or acted as if they had not seen the data. On another campus, staff provided data about their low salaries and benefits comparing themselves to peer institutions, and administrators would not acknowledge receiving them or the existence of salary disparities. Another technique for silencing is not acknowledging whether the staff had an impact on administrative decisions. One staff member described this form of silencing: I honestly can’t tell you what we’ve actually accomplished. While we got new benefits packages, the administration directly denies it has anything to do with the data that we presented to them. In fact, they have not acknowledged that any of our work has impacted them.

The technique of denying impact and treating the group or individual as if he or she is not effective or influential was an activity that interviewees noted appeared aimed at disempowering groups and taking away their sense of agency. On most campuses, this strategy was very effective is curbing grassroots efforts among staff. One of the more subtle ways to silence staff was to interpret any question asked by staff as a direct critique of the leadership. One staff member described this obstacle at the biannual forums (the few opportunities where staff and administrators interact) and how this technique by



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administrators created a divide among administrators and staff: “It’s impossible to create change if any idea we bring up is considered offensive to the administration. We kept being told—‘no bad news goes upstairs.’ The director of human resources kept saying it was his job to keep a lid on problems.” Many staff noted that they felt silenced because any time they tried to voice concern they were told they were unprofessional and challenging the status quo. They lived in fear that they would be oppressed (a more severe form of power) if they spoke up. While we heard fewer instances of silencing occurring among contingent faculty, we think we may have not captured this issue completely and again feel this is an area for future research. Controlling Behaviors Controlling behaviors were also very prevalent. In some instances, institutional agents decided that they would exert power by trying to control the grassroots leaders—not allowing them to meet without administrators present or trying to prevent them from organizing or mobilizing. We found controlling behavior used with both faculty and staff. Controlling behavior appeared to be the most prevalent form of power dynamic used with faculty, probably because overt forms of oppression might be met with more resistance and actually incite more activity, galvanizing the faculty. Controlling behavior and inertia (described next) slowed the efforts and dragged the process on and perhaps were more effective than oppression and silencing, which could unite faculty on campus. On many campuses, staff noted the ways administrators tried to control the staff by not allowing them to meet without an administrator. They were told that the groups or committees would be disbanded if they tried to meet without an administrator. Another controlling behavior was the administration placing members in the groups or on committees, members whom they believed would report back to them and act as spies: The administration is constantly trying to recommend individuals to sit on staff council whom they feel they can intimidate and manipulate to feed them back information. They have “yes” people whom they try to get voted on. It’s like a spy movie—all these tricky tactics.

Another form of controlling behavior staff noted was that administrators isolated them and preventing them from having communication as much as possible. One staff member discussed the way administrators controlled staff’s ability to meet and communicate with others: We tried to meet about our concerns about campus child care, and our supervisors said that they thought those meetings were a waste of time, and we did not

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have that kind of time to waste. We were all dissuaded from going to meetings. Eventually we met informally over lunch rather than official meetings that they could prevent us from going to.

Another example of controlling behavior is illustrated in a case of staff pushing for greater equity in benefits. The staff created a group to provide a formal place to voice their concerns and to meet. Even though the group was to provide an avenue for staff to communicate, the administration tried to limit the communication among staff and between the administration and staff to only twice a year at the community meetings. In addition, the administration changed the format five years ago so that staff could no longer ask questions but would just receive information because “they felt the questions were putting the administrators on the spot.” By controlling meeting times, agendas, and whether questions could be asked, the administration limited the activity and behavior of staff. This tactic led to staff going underground and meeting informally and discouraged collective and visible action. As we noted, faculty also experienced controlling behavior. While administrators typically did not try to prevent faculty from meeting, they often tried to establish committees or groups in which administrative representatives were involved as part of the committee. In fact, faculty at several of the campuses described the difficulty of meeting without administrators, even at faculty senate meetings, subcommittees, and school or unit meetings. If they were able to meet without administrators, they often found that meeting spaces were hard to obtain, administrative support was not provided, and other barriers were established to formal meeting and networking. Controlling behaviors were exerted more through evaluation processes. Administrators and faculty colleagues used evaluation procedures as a way to deter faculty from behavior that they did not deem as appropriate. One faculty member described this dilemma: I’ve been working on setting up these problem-based learning and including environmental field projects. During my annual review process, the associate dean asked about my work with the problem-based learning. I really did not get to say very much before he cut me off. He suggested that I redirect my work and stop developing these techniques that other colleagues did not respect.

Stalling Tactics Using tactics to stall was another form of power dynamics used, in particular, with faculty. As already noted, direct oppression and silencing were not successful techniques with most faculty because of their profes-



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sional authority. As a result, interviewees reported that the administration used stalling tactics, almost in the place of silencing, for faculty. Stalling tactics sent the message that the change was not important, but in a way the tactic was so ambiguous that faculty could not use it as a rallying cry to galvanize. It also created so many obstacles that it took away faculty members’ most important resource—time. Faculty described stalling tactics as extremely difficult to penetrate. While this might just sound like bureaucracy and red tape, the people we spoke with had evidence that there was intentional stalling and that this activity was not run-of-the-mill bureaucracy. The examples will help to illustrate this point. Faculty working to create a work life center and wellness agenda commented how no one in the administration had actually done anything to repress their center and wellness agenda. However, the administration also did not provide any support or engage the initiative: The administration has been largely silent. We have asked for support from some of the deans, and they either don’t respond or say this is something they can’t get involved with right now. The power dynamics really operate in terms of stalling tactics. I think they hope that other faculty will just kill the initiative.

Another example of stalling tactics was that staff and faculty could not get anyone to answer questions about policies, practices, and decision makers, related to the change they cared about. One faculty member described an experience with stalling tactics: I want to create a recycling program. I kept asking who is responsible for issues related to waste management, and no one can tell me who makes decisions. When I finally got names, they bounce me around from place to place. Then there is no process for making policy changes that anyone can identify. They need to get back to me. I follow up, and nothing has been done. This type of tactic goes on for months, years, it is really frustrating. I thought maybe everyone was just inept. But then a friend on a committee told me that people were purposefully stalling me and that it was discussed in a meeting he was at. They did not know we knew each other. These kinds of experiences are hard to manage.

Discovering whether stalling tactics are happening is obviously difficult, as it can often just be bureaucratic processes or disorganization. However, many people we spoke with could provide evidence that administrators were purposefully stalling or trying to prevent their change effort. Microaggressions One other form of power dynamics was identified across the initiatives and from the voices of grassroots leaders—microaggressions (related to

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bullying, but its more covert forms). Microaggressions—small, continuous abusive behaviors—such as discounting comments or actions were more common than the other forms of bullying mentioned in the literature. We designate this form as a separate category because it typically happened among groups of faculty or between faculty and staff. Because faculty and staff typically did not have the authority and resources to enact the forms of domination previously listed, they were not able to fire people, threaten, control resources, mandate meetings, or have the same impact through silencing. Instead, faculty and staff tended to lash out at each other through microaggressions ranging from negative or intolerant comments to demeaning or embarrassing hostile outbursts, questioning legitimacy or mental health, gossip, criticism, overloading colleagues with work, starting rumors, and the like. The same type of behavior has been documented in business organizations between staff with little power and those who try to control others through the type of dominating powers that are within their control, such as gossip or intolerant comments (Kanter, 1977). The majority of faculty we spoke with described power dynamics between themselves and their colleagues mostly as derogatory comments aimed at having them question their pursuit of the change initiative and perhaps to intimidate. One faculty member commented on this issue: I really feel for the staff because they have to worry about their next evaluation if they support the issue. Someone can try to make it really difficult for them. Mostly what I experience is negative comments—faculty can be really biting—“environmentalism is not a real line of inquiry, you know” or “what well-­established programs have an environmental focus?” They’re not really asking, it’s more of a comment. Or they use sarcastic humor to undermine your work. But they usually don’t actively have the time, energy, or inclination to actually try to stop our work revising the curriculum. They didn’t even try to mobilize the academic senate. It was just a lot of undermining comments.

A faculty member described another microaggression as she sought pedagogical changes in mathematics. Her colleagues questioned her mental health with ongoing snide comments: “Here she goes again with that active learning stuff. She needs to check herself into a hospital.” The colleagues were trying to insinuate that her attention to creating change was obsessive or compulsive. In her case, it did not stop with the microaggressions; eventually her colleagues reported their displeasure with her views to the dean and tried to threaten her legitimacy and job (luckily she had tenure). But the dean actually acknowledged their concerns and recommended that she seek therapy based on her different view of the curriculum.



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Another example of microaggression was a faculty member who had been placed on a curriculum committee but was not welcomed by his colleagues and who recognized that his placement there was to bring a multicultural perspective: Committee members are personally attacking me and my reputation. Members have spread rumors that my publications are not legitimate, that my academic credentials are not good enough. They have tried to get me thrown off the committee. Luckily, I am well regarded, and I don’t think this is going to go anywhere. So these are some of the power dynamics you experience.

As the preceding quotation demonstrates, microaggressions can take the form of attacking a person’s reputation and starting rumors to discredit him or her. p ow e r con di t ions a n d c h a ng e i n i t i at i v e s Each of the power dynamics cuts across the institutions, the groups (faculty and staff), and initiatives; yet we identified a set of interesting patterns related to initiative. The main difference we saw was between upper-level administrators and academic departments (representing the faculty and department chairs). The upper-level administration tended to resist and exert power dynamics related to the following types of initiatives: child care, environmentalism, staff equity, greater faculty involvement in governance, changes in athletics, additional support services for students, and critiques of commercialization or technology transfer. Most of these initiatives would cost the institution money and/ or could create changes to power relationships on campus; this trend reinforced the literature from Morgan (1997) on corporate interests being supported by institutional agents. Child care centers are an example of a change that would cost an institution money as well as change power dynamics by supporting women and making them more successful on campuses. While it can be argued that child care centers would also support men, women are viewed as being generally more supported from the development of the centers. In contrast, all of these initiatives (for example, additional support services for students) tended to be supported by academic departments (mostly made up of faculty). Academic departments see a benefit if additional support services are provided for students or if faculty obtain greater involvement in governance and tend to support these initiatives. However, the administration was likely to support and academic departments tended to be against the following initiatives: campus and

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community partnerships, innovative teaching and learning, interdisciplinarity, and technology. Departments (and faculty) were often resistant to these types of initiatives, and microaggressions followed for those supportive of changes because they challenge traditional academic norms. While there were certainly individual faculty members who supported the integration of technology or interdisciplinary teaching and research, the majority of faculty found these changes as challenging to the way they have typically conducted their work. Upper-level administrators, in contrast, were extremely interested in supporting the integration of technology, which they felt made teaching and learning more efficient, and supported interdisciplinary research because they felt it would enhance their chances of obtaining grants. Multiculturalism, gay and lesbian support, and gender issues tended to be resisted by both groups, perhaps based on institutionalized forms of discrimination. While we noticed a relationship in the data, future research is needed to understand whether this finding can be more broadly generalized. n av ig at i ng p ow e r dy n a m ic s This study demonstrates several important strategies that grassroots leaders can use to navigate power conditions. However, we cannot offer recipes for navigating the various power dynamics. Grassroots leaders found highly individualized ways to respond to institutional agents that were based on understanding the particular campus culture and power conditions. Their strategies are also related to their own backgrounds and experience, comfort level with confrontation, and mapping of the environment and culture. Microaggressions needed less navigation; faculty and staff noted that as long as they were connected to some form of network that encouraged their work and maintained their sense of resiliency and empowerment, they could persevere. But we spoke to many grassroots leaders who were working alone or with few other people. Microaggressions were a powerful form of resistance to people working alone. One of the main messages in this section on navigating power is that individuals working alone can have more difficulty navigating power; there is power in numbers. Even psychologically, the burden to overcome power dynamics is extremely difficult if individuals are not working in concert with others. The most prevalent approaches offered to navigate power are flying under the radar, creating internal and external networks, developing coalitions, recognizing and naming power, pursuing modest change,



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Group

Strategy

Tactics

Power dynamics

• • • •

Flying under the radar Creating internal and external networks Developing coalitions and networks Building bridges and obtaining allies in positions of power • Recognizing and naming power • Making modest changes • Reframing issues

Figure 7.2.  Power dynamics experienced by grassroots leaders.

reframing issues, working within the system or role, and appealing to like-minded administrators. (See Figure 7.2.) Flying under the Radar Pretenured faculty, contingent faculty, and lower-level staff described ways that they played a leadership role behind the scenes in a less visible capacity to reduce backlash. A staff member described this issue while trying to advance equity for custodial staff: Lots of my co-workers were vocal, and none of them are here anymore. The institution was able to get rid of them. I learned to be quiet and not draw attention to myself. I continued my efforts, but people were just not aware.

Another staff member discussed how he created a very large scholarship fund for Latino students but never took credit for the work, never drew attention to his efforts, and the institution became aware of the significant advances only after he had created an enormous network and external support system. The staff member described his approach: My first few attempts to create a scholarship fund were met with a lot of resistance. One person pulled me aside and said, “I really like you personally, but if you pursue this I will do everything in my power to make it not happen.” I guess at that point I realized that it was best to do this out of people’s view. I did work with a whole network of people who are also trying to support Latino students on campus. Many people in that group were more vocal and

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were ­trying to mobilize lots of people for change. But I just kept quietly working on the scholarship fund. Most of those staff members have been pushed out of the organization, and I lasted twenty years, quietly working to make Latino students more successful.

As a result of this person’s working so much behind the scenes, the institution could not identify the change that was occurring or who was initiating the change. So flying under the radar was an important strategy. Creating Internal and External Networks Faculty and staff described on- and off-campus networks, which helped them to support each other, increase legitimacy, share resources, and learn strategies for overcoming power dynamics. First, a critical part of navigating power was maintaining resiliency, and both external and internal networks were extremely important because they put grassroots leaders in touch with a large network of people who understood the importance of the issue. Many people relied on external networks because there were too few people on their own campus who were committed to the same issue. Additionally, external networks allowed people the ability to talk openly and privately with others about difficult issues. Many people noted that grassroots leaders often do not seek out external networks enough and that this is very important to overcoming power. Some people were able to create internal networks. For example, on many campuses there was core support for diversity across faculty and staff and across different disciplines. One faculty member described how she used networks to overcome resistance and power conditions: At first there were just a handful of us in different departments and units who were committed to diversity. One of the staff members who had been around for awhile became interested in diversity issues as well. She knew that there were a variety of people across campus who were interested in issues of diversity but who were not connected in any way. She began to introduce people. You would get this e-mail that said, “I know somebody that you should meet,” or “you should really go to coffee with this person.” In a couple years, there were many of us who could rely on each other and support each other. Then a staff person came under attack for the way she was addressing diversity in the cocurricular programs. There were rumors she was being fired. We all came together to protect her and made sure that she was not dismissed. We also helped her to gain back legitimacy as people were trying to undermine her.

Second, faculty and staff leaders also used networks to help overcome silencing by reinforcing the legitimacy and importance of their efforts. For example, faculty and staff who were working to create more service learning on campus used external networks to demonstrate the value and



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legitimacy of their efforts. Legitimacy helped decrease the incidences of bullying. Third, internal and external networks helped grassroots leaders gain access to resources and strategies, helpful for overcoming power conditions. One group on campus that was trying to create more familyfriendly environments attended conferences with champions from other campuses who helped them to gain resources to move their effort forward. The network also provided information about dealing with resistance, particularly sexism and gender discrimination. Another example is a set of women on one campus who were trying to further diversity efforts. They spoke about how they shared tactics with each other for overcoming campus stalling tactics, dealing with controlling behaviors, and confronting oppression. Developing Coalitions and Networks Grassroots leaders created coalitions with other groups and developed allies to help them withstand power conditions. For the faculty trying to create more interdisciplinary studies and bring attention to environmentalism on campus, joining and connecting their efforts to a better established diversity initiative on campus helped them gain legitimacy and get past calls for them to be fired for doing inappropriate work. One faculty member commented on how the coalitions helped manage the power dynamics that had emerged: Early on, things were the most controversial and difficult when we were an assortment of faculty interested in environmental issues. There were many faculty who felt what we were doing was outrageous. But then we managed to show faculty in other areas how the environment was important to their interests. Environmental travesties happen most in Third World countries and where poor people are. We could relate our message to those interested in diversity, poverty, and global issues. We kept expanding like that and building allies.

Faculty allies were very important for staff. A staff effort to make more connections to the community at a research university faced great resistance from some faculty who demeaned their efforts. Administrators controlled them by preventing them from meeting and advancing their efforts and by labeling them troublemakers. To overcome the oppression, staff developed a coalition with faculty conducting communitybased research. These faculty had influence and power within different units across the university and tenure to protect them when they took a stand. Once they formed the coalition, they were able to continue to advance their efforts more quickly. Staff are often under such extreme power conditions that it can be difficult, if not impossible, to navigate

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these conditions without support from faculty, students, or other staff members. Coalitions with other powerful groups become particularly important in these instances. Another method for overcoming power dynamics is creating coalitions by hiring like-minded people. Grassroots leaders, particularly staff, understood that one method for using their power is to hire people who will support their change agenda, and/or share a similar perspective that underlies their change efforts. For example, several of the staff discussed how they reclassified jobs or created flexibility in hiring processes to promote more diversity on campuses. One student affairs professional explained, “Actually, the other thing that I did is I changed the classification structures . . . I created this goofy tiered structure, and, depending on what qualification you have, I could hire you at any level of the structure.” This new system allowed the grassroots leaders to hire people of color with varying levels of experience and education. Also, she could provide professional development to her staff that would make them more qualified for these positions. Essentially, she removed the barriers in the pipeline for people of color while creating a more diverse pool of qualified applicants to promote to higher-level positions. Another method was to hire strategically in high turnover areas of student affairs. A student affairs person noted that she used open positions to strategically hire people who would be interested in her community service initiative: “Because housing is a place where you can turn over fast . . . I just hired a bunch of people that were all into community service, so I had a few people that cared about those issues and they were on the search committees.” Using this method, several of the grassroots leaders were able to place people in key student affairs positions, such as in the financial aid office, to further the network of support throughout the campus. When grassroots leaders needed different offices to assist in a change effort, a contact with similar consciousness around diversity or community service could advocate for inclusion or service learning within events, programs, and initiatives. Building Bridges and Obtaining Allies in Positions of Power While it is critical to have coalitions and networks of allies, is also important for grassroots leaders to consider dialogue with those in power positions, those who may be open and supportive of the change. Grassroots leaders can use a variety of techniques for building bridges: appealing to personal relationships, attempting to influence by understanding concerns, and identifying key people who might be open to negotiation, for example. Collectives have a vast social network that they can tap,



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and usually someone in the change group will have a personal relationship with someone in power. These relationships can be used to get a key ally or to find out how others feel about the initiative. One person described how she used personal relationships to open up a dialogue that might help to diffuse power conditions or better understand the resistance from the top. This staff member was trying to find out why administrators seemed against the campus diversity efforts: I had a friend in the administration, well, to say “friend” would be a stretch, but we knew each other and knew some mutual people in the community. We were experiencing some pretty strong resistance to our ideas about diversity, and I could not understand what was behind it. People were ignoring our requests; we were told we were not allowed to meet, and people were starting rumors about us. This seemed to be spinning out of control. We were confused. I took him out to lunch. At first he did not call back, and I thought, not him too. But he eventually called and said we should talk. He wanted his comments confidential, but he said people were afraid we were going to make monetary demands for various centers to support students of color, and they just did not want to have a slew of proposals that were expensive. He also said that some people got the idea we might sue the administration for some type of racial discrimination. They were worried about lawsuits. So, we could be more direct and open about our plans, assuring them it did not involve centers. We were not being specific at first, as we did not want to be considered demanding, but our lack of specifics and trying to be open to the administration led to worse problems.

This inside information allowed them to find out why power conditions were being exerted and to be better able to communicate with the administration in order to meet their goals. Recognizing and Naming Power Although it might seem obvious that faculty and staff could easily identify power conditions having an impact on them, as noted the beginning of the chapter, many forms of power have become ingrained into the routine of organizational life. They are so ingrained that faculty and staff did not recognize many of the power dynamics or how they were affecting their change efforts. Therefore, one important way to navigate power conditions is to be able to recognize that they exist. Some of the other navigation strategies already named, such as networks, help people to recognize power conditions through their conversations with like-minded colleagues. In fact, one campus had a network of faculty working on diversity who mapped power on campus and shared their analysis with new people who joined the effort. Identifying and navigating power conditions were systematically built into their change process.

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Oppression and silencing are easier to identify than other subtler forms of power like controlling, stalling tactics, and microaggressions. A faculty member described the way he became better about recognizing and naming power: You do not want to be paranoid and see power around every corner, but you cannot be naïve either. I ask people about politics and power, I map power in my environments; I make myself aware of areas that can turn into oppression and try to warn people.

An example of the way recognizing and naming power can be used to overcome power dynamics can be demonstrated in an environmental movement on one campus. Several faculty leaders recognized that stalling tactics were being used to stop their effort. Administrators would set up a committee to address concerns they raised, reports would be written, and nothing would happen. Faculty moving the environmental agenda forward decided to address stalling tactics by setting up implementation groups to follow the committee’s work, as well as the environmental projects on campus, to provide accountability for this work so it would not get caught up in campus bureaucracy. The implementation group would regularly forward reports to the administration about progress (or lack of progress). The administration began to respond; they could no longer hide behind the artifice of committees and shelved reports. Because stalling tactics were some of the most difficult power dynamics to navigate, they were the most institutionally based (embedded into the fabric and hard to identify). This may suggest (as Morgan [1997] predicted) that institutional forms of oppression are often the most insidious. Modest Change Faculty and staff grassroots leaders focus on creating small wins and moderate changes because if their change is too large people will begin to resist and threaten their progress. Incremental changes are more easily absorbed into the organization and are seen as nonthreatening, even though they still can create long-term change. As Meyerson (2003) predicted, these faculty and staff acted as tempered radicals working patiently, working on change for the long term and being willing to wait for change and success. Faculty and staff grassroots leaders realized if they pushed too hard and their reputation became damaged, they might have to move more behind the scenes. Various faculty and staff talked about how they worked in incremental ways. Faculty involved with an environmental movement talked about building on small successes:



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I’m unclear how intentional this was, but we really worked slowly. It all started with making people aware that there was an environmental issue they should be concerned with. Next, we worked to connect various people across campus who have the same awareness. We started to talk about the importance of interdisciplinary teaching and research. A few years later, we received grant money and offered some team-taught courses. Later we had the speaker series on campus. Pretty soon we were developing a sustainability plan for campus. Step-by-step, year-by-year, we went from outright resistance to the notion of environmentalism to a campus that is well known for and embraces environmentalism.

Another way to create modest change, particularly for staff who are vulnerable to power conditions, is to question people on a daily basis. Several of the staff described how they would use their role as the director of multicultural centers, their role as equal opportunity officers on hiring committees, or their work with students of different affinity groups (that is, gay, lesbian, and transgender students) to question the beliefs of others on campus. One grassroots staff person described, Whatever situation I’m in, sometimes people don’t like to hear something. I’ve gotten people, ‘You know, why don’t you just call me sexist?’ I’ll do that. That’s my job. That’s one way I choose to promote social justice is to speak to whenever something is inappropriate.

This specific staff person served in a role where she provided oversight on diversity issues on campus, which made her feel responsible for questioning individual beliefs that were contrary to those that she upheld in her position. Grassroots staff activism is often in relationship and within the context of those roles that characterize the center, office, or position that student affairs professionals occupy in the college. Reframe Issues Faculty and staff also commented about the power of reframing ideas to make them less controversial to others, to include additional interests, or to appear less threatening. Changes were often controversial, particularly among people who support or are privileged by the status quo. Reframing can make issues appear less threatening. One faculty member described an instance of reframing: When we first discussed the child care center and spousal hiring, people kept saying this is to help women and felt it was some special privilege. Later we began to talk about child care centers as important for men, not just women. Interestingly, that message was much better received. So the way you talk about issues can impact how it is received and how much it seems to threaten particular interests and privileges.

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In some instances, however, the reframing could compromise the initiative. Many people spoke about how the reframing of diversity to be less threatening compromised the importance of highlighting white, wealthy, heterosexual privilege, for example. Sustainability can become subsumed in economic growth rather than social justice. Reframing needs to be conducted carefully, so that the message helps navigate power without losing purpose. a s tory of n a m i ng a n d n av ig at i ng p ow e r The nature of power dynamics and an understanding of how grassroots leaders navigated them (or were unable to) can be exemplified through actual initiatives on campus. The following case focuses on a group of staff members trying to increase the access and success of Latino students at a university. Although the initiative began with staff, it eventually included faculty. This case demonstrates the difference between the ways that faculty and staff members are treated and the nature of the power dynamics that are exerted on them. Support for Latino Students at a University A set of staff members (from custodial and administrative staff to midlevel staff in academic and student affairs) wanted more Latino students to have university access.7 Latinos were generally not applying and were not admitted into the university. Although Latinos were the largest minority group in the area and made up a large percentage of staff, the campus continued to lack any outreach strategies or plans for increasing the numbers of minority students in general and Latinos in particular. The staff started as a loose network of people with a common interest in access for Latinos. Over time they created a large scholarship fund for Latino students, developed a strong alumni association that mentors students, conducted more outreach from the admissions office, and sensitized a variety of staff and faculty to the needs of Latino students. This long-term process occurred over twenty-six years and involved many of the common strategies we saw among grassroots movements. Leaders created a common vision, developed a network, created coalitions with other groups, strategically placed people on committees and in positions on campus, hired key new staff and faculty, created allies, collected and used data, created a faculty support network, recruited powerful external stakeholders, developed a plan, and brought stakeholders together.



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Similar to staff-led initiatives on each campus, the staff members experienced a laundry list of power dynamics that were more overt. One staff member recalled the way the administration was able to slow the initiative by firing people: I went to campus that day, and I heard that she’d been fired (one of our key movement leaders). She came to me a few years later and said, “You’re really a survivor; so many of us have been fired. I don’t know how the hell you did it, they got rid of all of us, and you stayed—you stayed.”

This staff member went on to talk about how he flew so low under the radar that most people were unaware he worked on campus and did not know his job description. Each time a person was removed, the administration used it as an opportunity to dismantle the power that person was acquiring: So if someone got a scholarship in place for Latinos, they would try to change it so that was open to all students. Or if we were recruiting in at certain high schools, they would suddenly say they were not going there anymore. So each time someone left, they could try to take away all the gains in that area. It was a way for them to start over and dismantle our changes.

Staff also described how if they challenged the institution too much, they were seen as “troublemakers” (the same word was used at each campus), and then eventually they would be sidelined or fired: If somebody causes a lot of trouble for the institution (is asking for change) or is perceived to embarrass the institution (by describing needed changes), then they are sidelined, which means that they decrease opportunities, demote you, take away responsibility, and marginalize you in as many ways as possible. So each time you made a choice to help Latino students, and if anyone noticed, you risked being labeled a troublemaker, being fired or sidelined.

Another staff member described experiencing oppression: As soon as my boss left, who could protect me? They decided to downgrade me and reclassified my job. They narrowed the scope of my work. I thought about leaving, but I knew as soon as I left, all the fellowships would be gone.

The administration hoped that by demoting him (and others), it would make individuals leave the institutions on their own, rather than having the bad public relations of firing people. While there was plenty of overt resistance from the administration to the grassroots effort, the preferred style of administration was to play a more ambiguous role in the face of efforts that attempted to change the status quo. Here controlling and stalling tactics were common. To

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­ amper the recruitment efforts of Latino students, administrators would h not directly tell them they could not target their efforts but instead made it difficult to do so: “‘I’m sorry, but we don’t have money for that mailing.’ Or, ‘You can’t take that recruiting trip to New Mexico.’ They just keep coming up with reasons that you cannot do the activity or have the resources that would make you successful in helping Latinos.” Staff also noted having to hide their activities and staying under the radar as much as possible because “the more attention you attract, the more likely that the support and resources will dry up as soon as people know about your activities.” One faculty member described how the stalling used to make it difficult for them to support Latinos in his school: At this institution, you don’t feel the resistance as someone telling you not to do something—instead, no one can answer your questions, no one knows how to help you, there aren’t any resources, there is no space, there isn’t any staffing, so power exerts itself as putting up such a stack of obstacles and ambiguity that you give up.

Administrators and faculty also denied the problem exists (silencing). One staff member described the president’s visit to the staff assembly: We asked him what his position was on furthering diversity. We noted that staff at the low levels are diverse but that students were not very diverse nor was the faculty or much of the staff or administration. He said, “I’m not sure what you are looking at, but when I look around I see so many diverse students on campus” (and what he’s talking about is international students). Also he is going off the anecdotal visual evidence and not any data. We tried to share data with him, but he had no interest in seeing it.

Not only did these grassroots leaders note experiencing domination from the administration, but they also felt retaliation from several faculty in a variety of departments. Luckily, “most faculty were so engaged in their research agendas and focused externally that they did not notice the changes on campus.” However, as some departments and faculty became aware, they also began to diminish the efforts of staff members who were creating support for Latino students. Faculty demeaned staff for their efforts: “So you think you are capable of identifying the right students for a campus,” “if other campuses are not doing this, it’s because it is a bad idea,” or “Latino alumni are not going to have money to support scholarships.” They also exerted controlling behavior by trying to overload staff with work so that they would not have time to focus on their grassroots leadership effort: “The faculty and department chair began to give me so many additional tasks after he found out I had been working with Mary and Carlos to help support Latino students. It made my grassroots work almost impossible.”



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This case also illustrates the dynamics when faculty members exert power on their colleagues. One of the main strategies that the staff used was getting faculty involved with trying to hire more Latino faculty on campus—they created a network of faculty who supported this idea. Faculty told stories about their colleagues making comments aimed at delegitimizing their progress in hiring and questioning it: “You must be getting a lot of extra support for these affirmative action hires,” or, “We are just worried that you are jeopardizing your career by supporting those weak hires.” A faculty member told a story about typical behavior she experienced from faculty trying to marginalize her (and others’) work: We were having a meeting when a faculty of color stood up to describe his work and the importance of diversity training to hire more faculty of color—ways we could change the curriculum. A handful of white men stood up while he was talking and walked out of the room.

This was typical of the type of discounting behavior that oppositional faculty hoped would bully others into changing direction. While many staff members were no longer with the institution or were discouraged, the many small victories provided evidence that they had been successful in their effort. Staff noted that many employees ended up leaving the institution because they were fired or demoted, creating the need to constantly regenerate the network. The only reason the initiative continued is that they had a large network of faculty who were less easily fired and eventually began to protect staff members. The ambiguous power conditions made them rely on external support (alumni, community members) because it was an avenue they were able to better negotiate and understand. Without external support, the initiative may have failed. Staff and faculty were able to determine ways to navigate power conditions and told stories about ways they moved forward in the face of these conditions. First, a few of the staff were able to fly so low under the radar that people were unable to exert power on them; they were able to create changes and a power base. Second, they were able to successfully create support by building a coalition with faculty, who played a leadership role when staff needed to fly under the radar again. As staff noted: “Faculty were able to carry the initiative when staff were unable to. Although faculty experienced power dynamics, it was not as severe as those experienced by staff.” Third, they learned to reframe issues so that they would experience less resistance—such as stating they were helping first-generation rather than Latino students. One staff member described this issue: “As I spoke with people, I realized they were

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r­ esistant because this was about race. So I started to test out the idea that this was helping first-generation college students. Suddenly, I got a lot less resistance and tried to get people across campus to change their language.” A faculty member also spoke about reframing: I think part of the problem was that the administration did not like that changes were happening, and they were not being credited for it. So I went to a couple meetings and said I wanted to thank the administration for all their good work on increasing the access and retention of Latino students. When they were being credited for the change, they were much less resistant.

Fourth, they created a network of support across faculty and staff who cared about supporting Latino students. They also navigated power by making modest and slow changes. They began with a speaker series and developing awareness, then moved to rethinking admissions and recruitment processes; later they developed more fellowships, and lastly they began to hire people who supported these changes and developed a more visible network. For many years they did slow work in small almost imperceptible increments before they became more visible. conclusion Navigating power conditions (often resistance) is a necessary and often difficult part of being a grassroots faculty or staff leader. While power conditions and their severity vary, based on the type of initiative or the institutional culture and climate, they have an impact on a great number of faculty and staff grassroots leaders. We do not mean to imply that everyone experiences power conditions or that all found them difficult to navigate; remember the stories of Neeta and Kevin, who had minimal resistance to their efforts (yet they had situations that privileged them on campus). Some people expressed obstacles but found very little in the way of overt resistance. Position within the institution, sense of agency, and self-efficacy are also extremely important when it comes to navigating power. In addition, perspective or beliefs about power also influence the ways to navigate, which is the subject of the next chapter.

chapter eight

Grassroots Leaders’ Understanding of Power and Effects on Leadership Style

; In Chapter Four, we described Veronica, an administrative assistant who had worked hard to create equity for staff members on campus. Veronica was very aware of power conditions on campus because the administration attempted many times to block her work to form a staff council to improve the working conditions of staff on campus. Even though she had experienced great resistance, she maintained her belief that change was possible and witnessed small changes over the years, from improved benefits and retirement to more communication with the administration. She served as an informal advocate for staff members, based on her seniority and long-time work on campus. But she recognized that many staff members felt disempowered and did not believe they could make change. Veronica consistently had thought about power and had struggled over the years to refine her understanding of it and how it affects her leadership style. In earlier years, she approached leadership in a particular style—she felt the need to confront the administration more, but at the time of our interviews she had changed her style—focusing on empowering staff and creating changes incrementally. In the last chapter, we highlighted the ways individuals and groups experienced and navigated institutional forms of resistance. In this chapter, we examine some observed trends regarding the ways that grassroots leaders interpreted and understood power (here we are focused on their view of how they can have control within their setting toward achieving goals—power, not power conditions) and the impact on the way they operated as grassroots leaders, particularly their resultant view of power dynamics, which had an impact on the leadership style they assumed. Faculty and staff grassroots leaders interpret and understand power differently, and this understanding shapes and affects their success as

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grassroots leaders. As noted in the last chapter, tempered radicals and grassroots leaders are more likely to encounter and need to be aware of power conditions because those who create change from the bottom up often challenge institutional norms and power structures. Furthermore, as Meyerson and Scully (1995) point out, tempered radicals generally remain within their work environment, and the way that they define and negotiate power is critical to ensure their place within the organization. In other words, tempered radicals need to strategically think about the way they define and use power to create change. A poor strategic choice can result in dire consequences that the tempered radicals are unprepared for, such as being fired. Surprisingly, the way that grassroots leaders interpret and understand power has not been the subject of much research. Benford and Hunt (1992) note: We lack a conceptual framework to understand attempts to construct and reconstruct definitions of power among grassroots leaders. Movement scholars have generally neglected the process by which these meanings are developed, sustained, and transformed. (p. 36)

The way grassroots leaders define power is an area that has generally been overlooked in the literature on grassroots leadership and remains an important gap in our understanding that our study was able to examine and shed light on. In this chapter, we make five main points: (1) Beliefs about power are quite ingrained and cannot be shifted as easily as it is characterized in the literature related to leadership style; (2) Grassroots leaders who hold a confrontational perspective (often also referred to in the literature as a Marxist view of power where authority must be met with active resistance) may jeopardize their efforts; (3) Grassroots leaders who ignore power dynamics may do so at their own peril; (4) Awareness of power dynamics and taking a constructive approach to power dynamics may best serve grassroots leaders; and (5) Institutional context appears to have an impact on views of power and power dynamics, and we identify certain context conditions that foster a more confrontational perspective. There has been little direct research regarding the way grassroots leaders conceptualize and understand power (see the Appendix for more details). The closest literature that exists focuses on leadership style, and styles tend to vary based on implicit notions of power. People use a confrontational style when they believe that others will interact with them in unilateral ways and will not share power (Astin & Leland, 1991). Grassroots leaders are more likely to use a consensus style if they believe others are cooperative and willing to share power. Previous studies suggest that different situations require different styles of leadership to be



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effective. The implications of our findings are that beliefs about power tend to be fairly ingrained and that shifting between styles is not easy given that the views of power are so fundamental. Although grassroots leaders are more effective when they can modify their style to match the situation, our research suggests that faculty and staff grassroots leaders in higher education need to think more about their views of power and how these views tie to the style and approach that they take to grassroots leadership. We also demonstrate the potentially problematic role of holding the confrontational view of power and trying to enact change within an organizational setting like a college campus. In the confrontational view, power structures are considered more static: Elites are always trying to oppress the nonelite. The only way to overcome this dialectical relationship is through active resistance, group mobilization, and direct action (picketing, rallies). Certainly, in the history of higher education there are examples where the confrontational approach was successful; for example, the 1960s civil rights and antiwar movements on campuses. Perhaps there will be other opportunities where a confrontational approach will be successful and should be considered. Even tempered radicals do not discard the importance of confrontation and direct action in certain circumstances. Resistance has an important and valued tradition—but its most direct and confrontational incarnation seems to have less success in organizational settings (as predicted by Meyerson’s framework). Those who use a more tempered approach in our study experienced more predictable examples of success, perhaps because they do not perceive hegemony as impenetrable and are thus more likely to use a variety of strategies. More important, the study suggests that confrontational grassroots leadership may not just result in retribution against the individual leader but also jeopardize the change effort. The confrontational approach might be successful in limited situations, but the stories told by faculty and staff grassroots leaders suggest that the confrontational approach typically resulted in not creating the desired change; in fact, it created resistance to the change effort. In addition, the stories of grassroots leaders who have altered their approach from the confrontational perspective to a tempered perspective demonstrate an awareness of the effectiveness of a tempered approach. Among the hundreds of grassroots leaders we spoke with, no one has gone from a tempered approach to the confrontational approach. Several of the leaders who took the confrontational approach had questioned its efficacy over time. Another finding from the study that has implications for faculty and staff grassroots leaders is the potential problem of leaders not focusing on power or power dynamics. While we found that it was problematic

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for grassroots leaders to hold a confrontational perspective (at least an unexamined confrontational perspective), grassroots leaders in higher education described themselves as being less effective if they were not attuned to or unaware of power dynamics. By defining power as uncontrollable or a background facet of the context, they did little to navigate power or to connect their strategies to a belief about how power operates. Another consequence is that these individuals were typically not intimidated and were more likely to feel a sense of agency, but they often naïvely approached situations and were unable to navigate resistance they encountered. As a result, this resistance often became a barrier that prevented them from moving forward on certain initiatives. Those in positions of authority who had formal power were much better able to control individuals who did not focus on power dynamics and saw power dynamics as a background feature. Yet this also allowed these individuals to possess greater agency, and there may have been several advantages to this approach as it related to motivation and participation in grassroots leadership. This relationship is an important area for future research as well. If individuals remain ignorant of power dynamics, cultures of power in their organizations, potential allies, and the like, they remain poorly positioned to be resistors or grassroots leaders. Therefore, another lesson from this analysis of personal views and understanding of power is that there is a subset of individuals whose leadership is potentially compromised because they have not spent the time to think through and understand how power operates within their campus context. We hope that this study helps grassroots leaders recognize the importance of identifying how power operates in their setting and of developing strategies that serve to navigate power on their particular campus. Lastly, institutional context shapes views of power—in particular, authoritative leadership, lack of shared governance, and a fragmented campus culture. Campuses that had the inverse situation—strong governance, interaction between groups, and more collaborative leadership— did not have such a strong concentration of confrontational grassroots leaders. While there were confrontational leaders on all campuses, certain environments seemed to create a more confrontational behavior and style among faculty and staff. t h r e e v i e w s on p ow e r In this chapter, we demonstrate that individuals and groups tended to have three different ways that they understood power:



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1. The confrontational narrative—resist and rebel against the oppressor; 2. The tempered radical narrative—power conditions exist, but there is room to navigate; 3. The power as context narrative—issues of power or power dynamics are not important or are a background feature to the grassroots leader. These various approaches to understanding power will be described primarily by using the portrait of a representative grassroots leader and supplemented by the quotations of several additional leaders who understood power in similar ways. The way that faculty and staff grassroots leaders interpret power is tied to identity and experience, which are more easily demonstrated through these individual case examples. Regardless of initiative or campus context, these three perspectives represented underlying ways that individuals conceive power. What we found is that these perspectives appear to be basic and fundamental beliefs that certainly can be reinforced or changed by context but seem more fundamental to personal background and beliefs. We identified few relationships between campus context and beliefs of power. Multiple individuals within the same initiative or campus context seemed to hold differing views based on their lifetime background or experience. On only one campus did we find large numbers of faculty who maintained a confrontational approach, so we describe this campus and some of its unique aspects that might suggest contextual conditions that shape views of power. Through these narratives we describe their view of power; then we examine how it affected their approach to grassroots leadership, particularly how it shaped the way they navigated power. Confrontational Approach About one-fifth of the grassroots leaders we talked with used a confrontational approach. Many others referenced the confrontational approach as a prevalent strategy used by others who had been forced off campus. Therefore, purely by attrition, it was more difficult to find these individuals. Those who did have a confrontational approach, described here by a woman named Jennifer, viewed power as located within the organizational hierarchy, as oppressive and finite. They challenged power through confrontational strategies (for example, criticizing the administration, organizing rallies, and student protests). As Jennifer’s narrative will illustrate, confrontational approaches often lead to retribution. Jennifer, a white woman who had been very involved with unions on campus, also had been involved with faculty rights and gender issues.

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Through her involvement with the union she has improved the work conditions for her faculty colleagues, but it has been an ongoing battle. She also believed that her work with the women’s center and some of the student groups had helped to improve the environment around sexual harassment, child care, and gender on campus. How Did Jennifer and Her Confrontational Colleagues Understand Power?  Jennifer had long understood that the power source at the institution was the administration and that they routinely abused their power and needed to be carefully monitored. For her, power was something that those in authority had (mostly formal views of power) and that others fought to obtain; this dialectic between those in power and those without was an ongoing and constant battle. When asked about how she conceived power, her response demonstrateed that she saw it located within the hierarchy and bureaucracy: “Most of the power is in the bureaucracy. There are not very many sources of power outside of that, at least for faculty. And for staff, they are only as empowered as their immediate supervisors allow them to be.” She and other grassroots leaders noted that those in power had an oppressive stance but that she was always willing to challenge it: “You have to recognize there is a power structure here, and there are a lot of people who don’t want to stick their necks out. I’ve been around people who stick their necks out in life, and so sometimes I’m shocked when people are afraid to, but then people get whacked, so I understand.” The description of power within the institution was one of active oppression, battles, retaliation, and opposing sides. She explained how she developed these beliefs through her “family upbringing; my parents were real activists. Also, her involvement in the women’s movement and political action in the community.” Jennifer and her confrontational colleagues tended to view power as a finite resource tied to formally delegated authority. Therefore, they often saw their interests as being in conflict with other social justice issues. On one campus, those who were fighting for diversity felt they needed to compete with those supporting environmentalism because there were finite resources and support that could be garnered. Asian, Latino, and African American groups were often vying for power, rather than working together as allies. Jennifer’s colleague noted concern with the confrontational approach: “The problem with the zero-sum view of power (held by Jennifer and others) is that people who you think would be on the same side on issues begin to take each other on. And I’m not sure they are even aware of it, but the way they view power and interest results in this approach.”



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How Did Jennifer and Her Confrontational Colleagues Approach Grassroots Leadership Based on These Views of Power?  She noted that she had “always had a strong sense of justice and fairness that has overwhelmed her fear of consequences.” Therefore, she felt compelled to actively confront members of the administration when they trampled on staff or faculty rights. She believed that “you have to demand and assert your rights. There is no way that the administration will ever work with us to create the type of changes we want.” As a result of her views of power, she felt that it was her duty to actively criticize the administration. She noted that she does not “dislike the people she criticizes, but it is expected that we butt heads sometimes.” Her strategies involved direct and visible approaches such as writing articles or memos that criticized the administration, organizing rallies and events, participating in student protests, picketing, getting on key committees in the bureaucracy, and other more visible forms of creating change. When she described her approach to change she said, “I have problems with authority, and I get in their faces, and then I get in trouble that way. I fight with my colleagues, and I fight hard, and so they push back hard, and they know how to push back from that white, male dominated place, and then I get chewed up.” This quotation also illustrates how her change strategies and approach made her a direct target for retribution. She noted that because the administration was actively against her ideas for change the only way to create change was to force its hand. And her direct approach to change had been noticed by others within the institution: “We heard through the grapevine that the president was very offended, personally offended, by what I wrote, so some of the other board members also thought I was pushing the limits, over-the-top. So I wrote a thank-you note to say I didn’t mean to hurt [the president] personally, but the president never acknowledged my note.” Jennifer and other grassroots leaders believed that public humiliation is an important tool for creating change. Almost half of the individuals who took a confrontational approach had changed their approach slightly over time, often as they aged or to avoid backlash. Jennifer noted that “I’m more diplomatic than I used to be. I’m more patient than I used to be. Raise a couple of kids, and you’ll learn a few things from that. I’m more tolerant of human failings and fears now.” This translated into Jennifer slightly tempering her confrontational approach. This tempering may be the reason she is still at the institution while others with a critical approach have left or been asked to leave. Another faculty member described his transformation over time: “I tried to stop myself when the discussion gets bigger and more personal. I try to allow them to disagree with whatever they feel that they

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disagree. If you allow it to get too personal, then it can hamper your efforts to change.” Many of the grassroots leaders with a confrontational approach had some awareness that their style could be perceived as confrontational and a turnoff to those in the administration, as well as some of their colleagues. However, based on their views of how the power structure operated, they felt it was their responsibility to maintain this approach even if they slightly tempered it over time. They did not have a desire to become tempered radicals—they felt a responsibility to be the ones who “stick their necks out” for the good of the order. How Did She Navigate These Power Conditions?  Navigating power conditions is particularly critical when the confrontational approach is used. Jennifer and others noted that many confrontational colleagues were no longer at the institution or, if they were, were no longer considered legitimate (were not listened to or did not have influence). As Justin, a tempered radical, noted, “It is easy for administrators to organize you right out of the organization.” Jennifer experienced this power reaction to her confrontational grassroots approach when her departmental nomination for chair was overturned by administration. Jennifer said that although it is “illegal for administrators to retaliate against the criticism that I have lodged against the institution, I know that they often retaliate and act out against people who question their power.” Many other grassroots leaders who took this approach mentioned other forms of retribution such as formal lawsuits against them, having their courses scheduled at the worst times, not being selected for committees anymore, having their evaluations affected, becoming socially isolated, and having colleagues or other administrators make biting comments at meetings. The severity and degree of the many forms of retribution alone should be a cautionary tale for others and signal why navigation is so critical. Jennifer believed that the union was a source of power that could protect her and allow her to speak her mind in ways that nonunion faculty might not. So the union was a mechanism for helping her to navigate power conditions within her environment. Her approach was to build and/or become a part of an oppositional structure. But she reiterated, “The power is really seated in the administration.” She also described the importance of tenure as a protection for faculty and source of power, in particular, to speak their minds and navigate the power structure. She had been a fierce advocate for tenure and believed that if tenure goes into demise, then the administration would gain a tremendous amount of power and faculty would be much less able to navigate institutional power: “Because of tenure I feel I can be a



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fierce advocate against sexual harassment and for the child care center. Otherwise, I am not sure I would feel as comfortable.” Because Jennifer used very confrontational approaches to change, at times she and other grassroots activists needed to change their strategies and go underground. Those who use such active strategies to fight the power structure often end up being labeled as troublemakers and have to work in different ways for a while. These individuals were more likely than others we spoke with to cycle in and out of different strategies from active to more underground. Jennifer described the way she flew under the radar from time to time: I do a lot of stuff in my office right now; I am still active, but it is not as visible. I do not want to put my family at risk anymore. I remember that the last chancellor came up to me at one point and said, “I haven’t heard from you in a couple years.” He sounded pretty relieved. And my dean said, “I heard you were this wild woman, and I have not experienced that.” I said, “Well, people change.” Well, I haven’t changed, but right now they don’t know what I’m doing. That is how it has to be at times.

Flying under the radar was described by Jennifer’s confrontational colleagues once they had reached a certain level of open antagonism, and many examples were given—mentoring and working with students, creating underground networks, anonymously forwarding information to key individuals, having other people speak their perspective—a host of strategies were used to accomplish the leader’s goal without others knowing the work he or she was doing. Beyond building oppositional structures (unions), relying on tenure, and flying below the radar, these leaders tended to do less to navigate power than did tempered radicals, described next. Power is to just a force to be reckoned with; more limited navigation takes place. Tempered Radicals Approximately half of the individuals whom we interviewed understood power in ways that were similar to the approach described within Meyerson’s (2003) tempered radical framework. Justin, a staff member of color, represented the perspective of other tempered radicals we saw across the campuses we interviewed. Justin had been dedicated to several issues, including staff equity, increasing service learning, and diversity. His colleagues acknowledged him as successful in his efforts to create change. How Did Justin and His Tempered Radical Colleagues Understand Power?  Tempered radicals on campuses often perceived power in

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c­ omplex ways—noting different forms of power (expert, charisma, influence), different sources (informal and formal), and dynamics of power (changing over time and by situation). Because they saw power as distributed, embedded differently within each culture, and something that needed to be identified uniquely, they spent time trying to map power sources and structures. Justin described this process: Well, one thing we do is analyze the existing power structure, which is changing all the time. It’s hard to get power or make change if you don’t understand where decisions are made and where influence resides. So when our group sat down to work on diversity, we started to map out a system of formal and informal power on campus.

Justin went on to say: I think power has a lot to do with change. And there are lots of different kinds of power—expert, charisma, influence. Staff are not disempowered wholesale like some would have you believe. The faculty have lots of opportunities to create change—both through informal processes and through formal processes like the faculty senate, unions, or shared governance process, which is big in our state.

Those who shared a tempered radical view of power described how this perspective has evolved over time: “My views of power have evolved through different positions I have held, my experiences, and even my family background and experience.” Certainly tempered radicals believe that oppression and abuse of power happens, but they see more opportunity for changing existing power relationships. These individuals believe that those in power could be negotiated with, have some mutual or shared interests, and believe in their own empowerment within the situation/organization. As Justin described: Administrators have to share power to a degree or another. None of us thinks we have to force the administration in many situations, we just have to appeal to shared interests, work informal power processes to overcome inertia. Sometimes we do have to work around them, and we have done that but working in a civil way. I think that’s how we create change—we continue to empower ourselves through the process of change. We actually have acquired quite a bit of informal power. These things can’t be made public because all of us would have our necks chopped off if people really understood how often we are impacting choices and the direction of the campus.

This quotation illustrates the complexity of a tempered radical’s view of power. These grassroots leaders believed they could change power relationships and provided examples of such change but did acknowl-



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edge that there was a power structure that would retaliate if it realized how much power they had actually garnered. The quotation also demonstrates that tempered radicals feel that that those in positions of authority do not hold all the power and that they can work with them in civil ways. Justin also noted that power is infinite and that he and others have really created an alliance between various groups on campus: Those in diversity really support environmentalism. Environmentalists and supporters of campus community partnerships also support diversity. Asian Americans are very supportive of African Americans on campus. We believe that, through working together, we can empower all groups and create social justice more broadly.

Power is not held solely by the administration or some other group to be confronted. Instead, Justin and his colleagues viewed power as located in various places, among different groups, and acknowledged that power can be garnered through informal and sometimes subversive approaches. Although power can be shared, they did believe those in the hierarchy held formal power over grassroots leaders, and they could retaliate if they realized how much power grassroots leaders were able to yield. How Did Justin and His Colleagues’ Understanding of Power Affect Their Approach to Grassroots Leadership?  As a result of their multifaceted and dynamic views of power but general awareness of power conditions that exist, they adopted strategies that were less visible, behind the scenes, smaller in nature, and more informal. Furthermore, their strategies suggested an ability to negotiate and work with those who were believed to be in positions of authority and held formal power. Justin said that one of his most commonly used strategies was questioning traditional practices: If I’m in a meeting, and they are discussing an issue, it is entirely appropriate for me to say, “How are students of color going to be affected by this change?” I bring it to the table but do not engage in direct conflict with a supervisor over resources or policies. That would be professional suicide and usually does not result in change. I’ve seen others do that, and they are no longer here.

The less visible strategies taken by Justin and his tempered radicals colleagues were adopted due to the risk inherent in attempting to question practices and create change. Using the less visible and less confrontational strategies decreases risk, while still achieving the goals of questioning practices that may lead to change. Another one of the tempered strategies is planting ideas with administrators and allowing them to take credit, a practice Justin ­regularly used.

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Justin also provided another story of the way he could be influential in decision-making processes in ways that were effective but tempered: What is important for long-term change is to be the voice of underrepresented students at meetings and to change the culture by the questions that we ask. Asking for a quick change overnight only creates obstacles. There was a real concern over the way that fellowships were being allocated and that students of color were not getting any. Rather than try to impose a policy, which I could’ve argued for but would have been an uphill battle, I contacted a faculty member of color on the committee and made it his responsibility, informally of course, to impact the decision-making process. It would have been a real struggle to change our policy, but it was easy to get someone on the committee who has sensitivity to push and get students of color fellowships. I constantly look for these opportunities.

All the strategies that Justin and his colleagues used relied on their understanding of power. He acknowledged that power structures existed but that they were open to influence through decision-making processes, getting on influential committees where he could bring a new perspective, building relationships with those in power, building bridges and relationships with others in general, developing coalitions and networking, or leveraging external support. Justin also recognized that, as a part of the institution, his approach to change needed to be different: “The kind of confrontational politics that I used when I was a student just don’t work later when you’re part of the institution.” Learning to adopt these less confrontational strategies requires that the tempered radicals learn to scan the environment or context. Justin told a story about ways that faculty and staff could pick up on signals from others within the institution and avoid direct confrontation, saying that many people were not adept at picking up on these signals. He noted the need to realize opportunities for negotiation are constantly there: Some professors were trying to help students maintain a project [changed to protect anonymity] they have created. They were trying to do this research project out there to help, and then the administration sent them a letter saying that this was in violation of university policy. But if the faculty decided they wanted to teach classes out there, there was nothing specifically against that issue. So the faculty picked up on this signal from the administration and were able to find a creative way to keep the [project] open. So there are ways of doing that, and you usually do not have to have direct confrontation. The faculty member could have called screaming on the phone: “I can do what I want with my research funding!” But then the whole [project] would have been lost. So, if you pick up on the signals, then there’s room for creating changes.



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However, Justin acknowledged that there were times that some of his tempered radical colleagues did participate in more confrontational approaches but did so sparingly and often under the radar: My colleague, Jean, is an untenured assistant professor, and she was mentoring students who were protesting. She wasn’t doing anything illegal, but she certainly didn’t want anyone to know exactly what she was doing, and the administration would not be happy about it. So these things happen from time to time, but people tend to be really careful and measured in taking these approaches, or they lose their legitimacy.

But being careful about the visibility of your actions is different than treating administration like the enemy, which Justin saw as a problematic approach: You can set up a strong arm of resistance when you see the other people as enemies. As soon as you start reacting to people in that way, they react back with force—they feel like they’re being pushed and push back. So part of being an effective change agent is trusting others and trying to understand where people are coming from, not assuming they are the enemy.

Justin and his tempered radical colleagues focus on a style that they believed was much more successful, typically labeled as professional, civil, and taking a higher moral ground. Justin comments on this issue: I always make sure that I come from an extremely civil and professional place; I do not attack people, even when I’m attacked. I always take a calm tone and keep my comments related to the issue at hand. You have to distance yourself from taking things personally and getting your ego involved. When people lash out, you want to lash back, but it’s only a waste of energy, and then you’ve lost the higher moral ground. That’s one of the most important tools you can have. If people can say, “There goes so-and-so on their tirade again,” then people stop listening to you, and you’ve lost your ability to have impact.

How Did Justin and His Colleagues Navigate Power Conditions?  While Justin acknowledged that power conditions always exist, he also noted there are many ways to navigate it. He typically began by naming or mapping power, in which he identified who had power on campus, how power was wielded, how dynamics were changing (described in the last section). After mapping the landscape of power, he and his colleagues described using the various techniques outlined in the last chapter— networks, coalitions, making modest changes, reframing issues, and building bridges. Justin focused on the notion of building bridges and described how he used bridge building techniques to navigate power in comparison to other colleagues who took more confrontational ­approaches:

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“We started figuring out building bridges was a lot easier than punching holes. We asked everyone in the group, ‘Who do you know who might be interested in supporting service learning? What might entice them to support our efforts?’” The strategy of building bridges was used by a group of women faculty on one campus who were trying to move a diversity agenda forward. They began to reach out to other faculty who had openly expressed concern with their efforts. They asked to hear the faculty’s concerns and just listened—they did not try to convince them that their perspective was wrong. Just the act of listening lessened the overt criticism by these faculty members. Another approach that Justin had taken was to attempt to influence those who might be resistant to his ideas. Once a person had built bridges, it was important to understand those who might block the initiative. Again, a bridge builder usually attempted to appeal to personal relationships, even with resisters. He described this example: You may know a person in the administration who is resistant to your ideas, but that you have rapport with. It can be a dangerous game to play, but in a social situation you can mention “oh my gosh, we are really having a hard time with this” (not letting them know you realize they are resistant). And you try to get them to empathize based on your personal relationships.

Another form of negotiation is to slightly modify the idea to include notions of those in positions of power. Often making small concessions or additions for those in positions of authority could increase the buy-in. But Justin and his colleagues would not attempt these types of negotiations unless they believed that those in power were open to influence and that they were empowered enough to make a difference: influencing others, overcoming resistance, or negotiating. Justin noted that understanding the language of those in power was also an effective strategy that could enhance his group’s effort to build bridges and to understand resisters. He explained how they had used this technique over time: We realized that we were not always communicating effectively. We seemed to be talking past people. One woman in our group stood up and said, “You need to reframe this; they think we are asking for monetary support. They also do not understand why this is necessary. They worry about legal issues. We need to address their concerns, and we need to take our message to them in a way they will understand it.”

Justin continued, “This woman’s father had been a superintendent, and she knew the way people in power think. You need people like that to help you understand resistance.” The strategy was also referred to as “re-



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framing.” Justin and his colleagues also engaged in techniques to have those in power believe that they came up with an idea. Justin explained: Many people want to believe that they have created a new and visionary idea. People also have pretty poor memories. I’ve realize I can often leave a meeting or make a comment in the elevator—“great idea so and so, I really like that concept.” The next meeting I go to, they present the idea as their own. So you just need to plant seeds sometimes.

Several of the tempered radicals acknowledged that addressing their own rage, anger, and despair was one way to navigate power and work with others productively. One of Justin’s colleagues was particularly eloquent on this point: I really think what gets me down the most is my rage. Those moments of total rage. I find white people so annoying [this woman is white], and my own rage around this really gets in my way of being an effective change agent. To be skillful, to be generous, to be open hearted, to be compassionate, to be patient, to acknowledge where everybody is at in their own development, to celebrate people’s good intentions—all that is just rough inside me. And so there are these moments where I have to address my own internal crap, my rage, or I cannot be effective.

At times, Justin admitted that naming power, building bridges, and appealing to resistors was not enough and he had to focus more on his internal strength and network to withstand the power conditions; there is just no way to minimize them, and some people are not reasonable. But, in summary, where possible navigation involves naming and mapping the landscape of power, building bridges and relationships where possible, creating networks and coalitions, appealing to resisters, understanding the language of those in power and using that language, and addressing tempered radicals’ own rage that can get in the way of being effective by veering toward confrontation, which they believe can destroy their efforts. Power as Context and Invisible Nearly a quarter of the individuals interviewed spoke little about their view of power and perceived it as a part of the context, rather than something separate or to be actively engaged. Power is something that is acknowledged when exerted. To use a metaphor, power to these grassroots leaders was water to fish, where the fish does not notice the water unless something changes in the water composition. Those who took a confrontational perspective perceived power as something to be

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­ btained, as finite. Tempered radicals see power as something that can o be shared and fostered and something people should be attuned to because power conditions actively shape existence. People who see power as context may perceive power (and power dynamics) as largely invisible or irrelevant. They do not speak about or communicate an active awareness of power conditions. As a result, in this study, those grassroots leaders did not attempt to negotiate power conditions, nor did they recognize resistance. If they encountered obstacles, they developed another interpretation for resistance to their idea—whether it was funding, history on the campus, or their own lack of persuasion. Because power was not in the forefront of their worldview, they simply saw it operating very infrequently. One of the limitations of this perspective is that when these faculty and staff faced resistance, they had not developed any strategies to attempt to navigate this resistance. The result was that resistance from those in authority, for example, was more effective for stalling change efforts and maintaining the status quo. Identity appeared to overlap with this construction of power; Caucasian and some Asian groups tended to hold this interpretation more than other groups. When we asked the grassroots leaders who saw power as context to describe their understanding of power or how power had an impact on the change process, they exhibited one or more of the following: They were unable to answer this question, unable to see the relevance to grassroots leadership, and/or typically did not attribute resistance to power conditions. We describe the story of two individuals that reflected the power as context narrative, Ned and Shannon. Because they did not describe power in much detail, this section does not follow the layout of the other two sections by describing how they understood power or how their understanding affected navigating power dynamics. They simply did not answer these questions to provide that type of data. We do review how they approached grassroots leadership and the implicit notions of power we were able to discern from their silences and lack of direct discussion of power. Ned, a white faculty member in psychology at a community college, was working to advance diversity and faculty participation in governance. When asked about obstacles, resistance, or power on campus, he focused on ways that these could be overcome but had trouble describing power or attributing power conditions for resistance or obstacles: It seems like through relationships, the campus network, strategic hiring, we are able to achieve our goals of creating a new teaching and learning environment and multiculturalism. There is always some resistance; there are always people who will not support change.



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He focused more on power as a natural element of any context. His comments throughout the interview focused on the importance of choosing the right strategies and tactics to meet the natural unfolding of change but in a context of “general” obstacles and resistance. When pressed further about obstacles and resistance, Ned could identify only funding as problematic: “Well, funding is always an ongoing problem and issue. Sometimes we want to host an awards dinner or do some faculty development, and there isn’t funding.” During a story about getting a multicultural requirement in place on campus, Ned described a group of faculty who, under the guise of academic freedom, attacked the provision in the senate. When we asked him whether this was a pocket of resistance or some power conditions on campus, he did not acknowledge that there was resistance. Instead, he considered it just a different perspective and said that he needed to write a compelling letter to the senate with an opposing ideology to support multiculturalism. We asked him to describe the group of resisters, and he stated, “All older white men.” He made no connection between the multicultural requirement supported primarily by people of color on campus and women and the opposition supported by older white men as perhaps related to any power dynamics. No matter how often we prodded, Ned’s interpretation of obstacles and resistance always went back to funding or simply a different set of beliefs. Ned did not describe any particular ways that he tried to navigate resistance or obstacles. Instead, he always focused back on strategies for moving forward, not directing any attention to the obstacle or resistance. In the context of his lack of attention to power, Ned sometimes had success—such as developing an ethnic studies program. However, more often than not, Ned was unsuccessful with the initial development of ethnic studies program, certain hiring committees, and initiating campus and community partnerships. Shannon, an Asian American staff member of the technical college, was trying to help undocumented students be more successful and to support them on campus. When we asked about her approach to grassroots leadership and the strategies she used, Shannon described her involvement with student groups, particularly marches and rallies. She also noted that she was very vocal in meetings and had become extremely visible on campus as the go-to person around undocumented students, which was considered a controversial issue. When we asked whether she was concerned about the visibility of participating in marches and rallies, she noted that: I cannot turn away people when they come for services. My director is pretty scared. And his fear, it puts me in a difficult situation. But I just have a plan,

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and I work to encourage students to seek services in a variety of offices. And also plan to create a network on campus to support students.

Many people working with Shannon mentioned they were fearful of the efforts she was working on and of backlash from others in the institution. Shannon herself described that others she worked with were scared. As Shannon commented: My director is fearful about what I am doing. Other staff members are not happy about my support of undocumented students, but I will continue unabated. They worry that my efforts might draw too much attention and perhaps resistance to the work that our office does more generally.

However, Shannon noted that she focused on her plan and gave little attention to power conditions. Power conditions were not issues that she was willing to focus on. Yet the attention others feared came to Shannon. In fact, the issue of helping undocumented students had gotten to the level of the president. Shannon had encouraged students to bring it up during a dinner with him. As a result, the president had considered her for a new position as an advisor. According to others we interviewed on campus, this new position would likely be fraught with problems, as people could target their criticisms of undocumented students on her. People perceived Shannon to be in the “hot seat,” but she did not see the same power conditions that others saw. She was not completely without awareness; she noted when pressed, “Well, at times it scares me a little bit—being on a conservative campus and having heard people voice their concerns against the services I provide, I am advocating for these students, and my name is on the line.” Nevertheless, for the most part power was not part of her consciousness and certainly did not influence her strategy for change. Even when we pointed out that she might be in a vulnerable position, she did not identify with that interpretation. Awareness of vulnerability would suggest accepting that power dynamics exist and could affect the individual. She noted, “You just have to keep following what you believe in, and events unfold—you cannot control things. It can be a waste of time trying to.” Both confrontational leaders and tempered radicals see power as something that can or should be controlled and altered. Leaders like Shannon and Ned operate in a world where one does not try to control or alter power or even pay much attention to it. Shannon and Ned thought that acknowledging power would give it more salience or agency. Power was just part of the context, something that played out and would always be there. To focus on it was a waste of time and energy that could have been exerted toward creating change. These grassroots leaders focused more on the



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creation of effective tactics and approach than on resistance and power dynamics. At the time, Shannon was new to the campus and had experienced some success. But we suspect that, like Ned, she may have her share of problems in the future because she does not engage power or power conditions in a direct or conscious way. It is important to note that some grassroots leaders who saw power as contextual were also effective in their use of strategies; regardless of their inattention to negotiating power, they were able to create change. In addition, their understanding of power had no impact on their choice of strategies; they simply developed a tool kit—networking, creating a vision, working with students, mentoring colleagues, hiring the right people, and so on—and, through the right combination of strategies, they were able to create change without any engagement about notions of power. Their choice of strategies was unrelated to seeing an enemy or persuading a relatively uninterested group. What distinguished this group is that their chances of success were much less predictable and precarious; success was happenstance. We end this section of the chapter with a table summarizing the views of power and their impact on leadership style and ways power is navigated (see Table 8.1).

ta ble 8.1 Perspectives on power and their impact on leadership style. Style

Confrontational

Tempered radical

Power as context

View of power

Power as finite, oppressive, as maintained by those in ­positions of authority

Power as distributed, multiple sources and forms of power, infinite, understanding of oppression but opportunity for changing power as well

Power as part of context not something to be engaged

Impact of ­leadership style

Challenge those in ­authority, try to ­reclaim power, active confrontation

Less visible leaderNone ship, behind the scenes, small changes, attempt to influence and build relationships

Navigate power

Limited navigation as power conditions are a force to be ­reckoned with, union and tenure as main tools

Naming and mapping power, networks, ability to negotiate power conditions and change, and reframe issues

No approaches and generally do not see power or power conditions as affecting their progress

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c a m p us con t e x t sh a pi ng v i e w s of p ow e r a n d l e a de r sh i p s t y l e It does appear that one campus, Almost Untempered Polytechnic Institute, had more individuals with a confrontational perspective, so we describe this campus context in more detail. This revisits some of the information about institutional setting presented in Chapter Three but reframes that information in light of the focus of this chapter. As noted throughout the results, beliefs about power seem more fundamental— more directly tied to overall life experiences and background. However, certain settings or contexts appear to elicit confrontation: (1) Authoritative leadership; (2) Divisions among faculty, staff, and administrators; and (3) Lack of shared governance. We found some of these characteristics (for example, divisions among faculty, staff, and administrators) on other campuses, making it difficult to understand fully the direct connection among context, views of power, and grassroots strategies. Yet because a confrontational perspective seems more limiting to faculty and staff leadership, it is important to investigate any relationships among characteristics of campus context that might elicit this view of power. As noted earlier, this campus had a long history of authoritative leadership. It was so ingrained in the culture that, even as new leaders joined without this authoritative approach, it was hard to move beyond this culture. Other campuses noted having an occasional authoritative leader, but none had such a culturally rooted sense of authority. When we asked people to describe the campus, the first words that came to mind were “chain of command,” “powerful and removed people,” “hierarchy,” and “bureaucracy.” People noted being afraid to contact the administration and that the administration had all the power. The administration was unilaterally controlling resources and decision making and seemed closed off to other groups. There was also no transparency with decision making, so people never knew how or why administrators made a decision. Members also perceived that the administration felt no obligation to communicate or be transparent. Faculty and staff wondered how they could be part of campus planning. Faculty lashed out at the administration from a general sense of disempowerment. Union newsletters poked fun at the administration, sometimes in biting ways. Faculty and staff also interacted very little with the administration. Without communication or interaction, the administration became isolated and removed from the rest of the campus. This type of isolation of the administration also led to the fragmentation that characterized this campus.



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The various groups on campus worked in isolated subcultures that did not overlap. Faculty and staff largely distrusted the administration, the staff were absolutely invisible to faculty and often administrators, and administrators demonized the faculty. Faculty worried about their rights and felt rights had been trampled many times in the past. Staff described the campus as “fractionalized.” No one saw any shared interests and goals, and working together was largely a strain. Each group felt they cared about the students and campus direction but felt that the other groups cared only about their own interests. Because of the authoritative leadership history and culture, the campus had lacked shared governance for years. While a faculty senate existed, interviewees considered it largely inactive and ineffective. There was no dialogue between the senate and administration, and their work operated in isolation from each other. The senate developed proposals that they sent to the administration, but the administration had failed to respond. While the senate continued to gain strong leadership over the years, it was typically among individuals who had a grudge against the administration, so no shared forum was created. The staff had no governance body and had been generally overlooked in terms of shared governance. Also, the lack of efficacy of the senate or hope for any real shared governance led to the rise and dominance of unions that were seen as the only groups that could engage the administration through collective bargaining. Through this process, the administration was required to interact with faculty and staff. The campus context led many faculty and staff to take a more confrontational approach to change. The belief in a strong hierarchy with a powerful administration resulted in faculty and staff viewing power as top down and unavailable; change could be created only through direct activism and confrontation. As described in Jennifer’s narrative, activism in the form of picketing and involvement in student protests was the method to challenge the hierarchy and create change. Due to the rift between the administration and faculty, the unions grew and were seen as a protective body against the administration. The unions tended to favor more confrontational approaches and reinforced the emerging confrontational style to approaching change on campus. The environment appeared to play a role in the view of power and the overall strategies of the change agents on this campus. Viewing the campus as hierarchical, bureaucratic, fragmented (and perhaps even unionized) all appeared to facilitate a more confrontational approach. Some may read this and think that only a few outlier campuses have a history of authoritative leadership, are fractionalized, or lack shared governance, but

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these are qualities that characterize many campuses nationally, and this is increasingly true (Birnbaum, 1988; Kezar, 2001a). conclusion The stories of grassroots leaders in our study suggest the importance of individuals examining their views of power. Those who hold a confrontational perspective may want to question whether this approach is best or should be used more selectively. Certainly, there are circumstances where individuals may want to make a stand and are willing to be fired and potentially lose their legitimacy. However, in our study, people who took a confrontational perspective did not appear to be aware that there were other strategies they could adopt. We recognize that their strategies are based on their fundamental beliefs about power and may not be readily changed. It may not be possible for those holding a confrontational perspective to adopt new strategies unless they fundamentally rethink their views of power. Also, those who tend to hold the naïve view that power is not a significant factor worthy of attention may also be informed by the institutional resistance recounted by our grassroots leaders. The stories presented are meant to help people with this type of reflection about underlying values and beliefs, so that grassroots leaders can thoughtfully form views that match their objectives. We hope grassroots leaders begin to ask themselves: What are my beliefs about power? How did I form them? Have my views changed over time, and if so, why? How do I view power within my organization? What impact does my view of power have on my approach to grassroots leadership? And how do my views of power relate to the way I attempt to navigate power?

chapter nine

Remaining Resilient

; In Chapter Four, we introduced six grassroots leaders who all managed to remain resilient in spite of obstacles, risks, and costs. Resiliency is the ability to spring back from and successfully adapt to adversity. Neeta maintained resiliency by seeing how she makes a difference. The graduation of her students symbolized her success more than her successful external funding. Kevin and Jane’s resiliency was drawn from relationships that they found to be rewarding and beneficial, such as those with co-workers, students, and family members. Jane also drew from her spirituality and reflections on her vision and goals. Mike and Kathleen found sources of resiliency in their intense passion and personal vision. Mike had committed large amounts of time to helping student athletes of color, while Kathleen had a lifelong dedication to improving the environment. Finally, Veronica’s sources of resiliency changed over the years as she disengaged from her work advocating for staff. While she initially drew on a support network for resiliency, she came to find her optimism and her previous successes as reasons to remain moderately active in her efforts for staff equity. The diversity of sources of resiliency represented in our grassroots leaders illustrate the many ways people find support, inspiration, and balance to overcome challenges and obstacles and remain grassroots leaders. The literature on resiliency provides some evidence for the sources of resiliency among grassroots leaders. The main approach described focuses on value and passion. Clarity and focus on personal values lead to optimism and the ability to ignore negativity or hopelessness and other distractions from the movement’s progress (Astin & Leland, 1991). Many resilient grassroots leaders also have a personal connection to the issues, thereby creating self-interest. For example, several of the grassroots leaders who identified themselves as people of color worked on issues related to diversity among faculty and students. Another important

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contribution of resiliency is support from others that often comes in the form of networks, internal and external to the movement, noted earlier in Chapter Six. Feminist literature, in particular, which is grounded in consciousness raising, notes the importance of support from networks for women. Families, groups related to the workplace, supporters across the movement, and friends are all part of the web of support that makes up these crucial networks. In addition, finding strength though other spiritual and nonspiritual activities can aid in resiliency. Engaging in religious activities and/or groups, meditation, art and culture, and hobbies (such as outdoor activities) are sources of resiliency that can be accomplished alone. Yet not all grassroots leaders are able to tap into these sources of resiliency easily and readily. We have examples of grassroots leaders who, despite a passion, a personal connection to the initiative, a consciousness of the importance of networks, and optimism, still faced considerable obstacles and found it difficult to remain resilient. Meyerson (2003) suggests that tempered radicals need just a few connections with others to draw from as sources of resiliency. Yet even those who did have individuals in their lives, either family or colleagues, still found it difficult to maintain resiliency over time. Therefore, one of the messages of this chapter is that grassroots leaders must recognize, locate, and find ways to tap into multiple sources of resiliency. Tapping into those sources of resiliency has considerable challenges: lack of time or practice with reflection, overburdened with amount of work and stress, and even overconfidence that the leader does not need to replenish him- or herself. In addition, grassroots leaders need to acknowledge when resiliency cannot be achieved and when it is time to leave or delay a change initiative; resiliency is not always possible for individuals in every context. The sources of resiliency differ from the tactics discussed in Chapter Five or ways to navigate power in Chapter Seven. Tactics are ways that grassroots leaders organized to create change; meanwhile, the approaches to resiliency often came after those tactics were employed and obstacles were encountered. While there may appear to be some overlap in approaches to resiliency and tactics to create change, the intention of resiliency sources is to find ways to overcome obstacles and continue to employ change tactics. An example of the overlap among tactics, ways to navigate power, and sources of resiliency is networks. Networks are discussed throughout this book and address many different challenges and goals facing grassroots leaders. Forming networks is a strategy to create change by gaining access to information that can further the way a leader crafts a vision. Yet networks are also a source of resiliency by connecting like-minded people who share the same passion. In addition,



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networks help navigate power conditions as leaders gain visibility and legitimacy, by being connected to others who can verify the importance of the issue. But networks do not serve all these purposes unless the grassroots leaders recognizes them. In this chapter, we highlight the ways that grassroots leaders remain resilient in the face of costs and risks, and the difficulties in tapping into sources of resiliency. Grassroots faculty and staff leaders we interviewed shared a variety of approaches that they used for remaining resilient, organized around extrinsic and intrinsic sources of resiliency. Extrinsic approaches are those sources of resiliency that are outside of the individual. Some key extrinsic approaches are professional development, cultivating a support network, and working in the community. Intrinsic sources are those approaches that are internal to the individual and often result from the change effort (the task) itself. These include maintaining a personal vision, belief and optimism, maintaining balance, and having a realistic perspective, among others. The intrinsic and extrinsic sources of resiliency are represented in Figure 9.1. We mention differences between faculty and staff when appropriate. We also highlight the challenges to remaining resilient over time. Many grassroots leaders, as mentioned in previous chapters, worked over decades to achieve change and often faced power dynamics and overwhelming obstacles. While the tactics for remaining resilient did work in most cases, some grassroots

Individual

Motivation

Identity

Resiliency

Intrinsic • Personal vision • Belief and optimism • Maintaining balance • Inner reflection • Humor • Making a difference • Having a realistic perspective Extrinsic • Networks of like-minded activists • Support network • Working in community • Drawing from family

Figure 9.1.  Sources of resiliency for grassroots leaders.

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leaders could not achieve the resiliency needed for long-term sustainability. We provide a narrative of one such grassroots leader to illustrate the challenges of staying resilient. i n t r i nsic sou rc e s of r e sil i e nc y The first major theme related to resiliency includes those intrinsic (internal to the task and oneself) approaches. Grassroots leaders look inward to their vision and passion as a way to stay motivated and constantly reflect as a reminder of the vision. They also derive resiliency from the outcomes of the change initiative, such as when they see students of color graduate and succeed. Personal Vision Grassroots leaders consistently discussed the importance of maintaining personal vision and ways their vision connects to the change issue. A personal vision is an understanding of the purpose of the change initiative, ways the initiative connects to individual values, and a feeling of responsibility. Mike, the student affairs professional in athletics introduced in Chapter Four, illustrates the role of personal vision in maintaining resiliency. When asked how he continued in face of obstacles, he responded: It’s understanding of who I am, understanding of purpose that continues to drive me. The reason why I want to become an athletic director is because I want to make a difference for black males—to get them out of the ghetto and to better themselves.

His intense passion to help young black men was his personal vision that he drew from when he faced obstacles. Many grassroots leaders, particularly those who were working on highly personal initiatives, echoed this sentiment: They believed strongly and passionately about their change efforts. That drive to move forward is rooted in a strong desire to create change and help groups of people. Part of the grassroots leaders’ personal vision is a belief that they have a responsibility to create change and a belief that they are the only people committed to the change. Without their efforts, others (typically students) would not succeed and would face inequitable workplace practices. Again, Mike embodies a strong sense of responsibility linked to his personal vision: So, who’s going to teach them? Who’s going to lead the masses? OK. There has to be a person who’s at a certain point or certain level to create that change and



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to provide that type of structure and that care and concern and that love so that they can make the right decisions while they are in college, and they graduate so they can be upstanding citizens. So they can be better fathers. And all of that is important because it’s a way to aid in saving lives and saving the race. It’s a way to change the plight, and that’s my way of having you know a print—an indelible print on the race. So, I see myself as not just an athletic administrator but sort of a catalyst for change within my race. I think that comes in different forms. You have ministers, you have professors—I think I am a combination of a lot of different things.

Mike noted that his awareness of these larger social issues was related to his own experience as an African American male who was also a student athlete. He felt responsible for the development of the students he worked with and drew from those responsibilities as a way to move forward and overcome obstacles. He also felt as if he was one of the only individuals who cared about the development of the student athletes, thereby placing more responsibility on him for grassroots leadership and making resiliency more important as he was taking on a larger burden. During times of great challenge, grassroots leaders engaged in dialogue and reflection to remember and draw strength from their personal vision. They would often question their original intent and make the connection between their actions and values. This grassroots leader described the ways that she would reflect on her personal vision: So, even though I had this network of people, I really still felt I was the one that was carrying the burden, and I think sometimes on a regular basis I would question myself, “What am I doing? Why did I go to school? Why wasn’t I content just being another statistic in Latino dropouts?” Or whatever. And then it’s going back to, “OK, what was my purpose? Why did I get my education, and why am so passionate about this?”

Reflecting, asking questions, dialoguing with other like-minded people, or simply venting to others provides an opportunity for grassroots leaders to remember their personal vision and to feel a sense of renewal, particularly when obstacles thwart their efforts. Personal vision is a foundation for many of the activities of grassroots leaders. To continue this metaphor, if the house collapses due to obstacles, grassroots leaders return to the foundation to help find purpose to build a new house where the other once stood. Even for those grassroots leaders who were unable to find resiliency, maintaining their personal vision helped them to return to their values and find other ways to create change later in their careers or at other colleges. We should note that this rebuilding is often extremely difficult and is the place where many grassroots leaders become lost. If they are separated from their personal vision and lack

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a collective to remind them and dialogue, they can drift off or become paralyzed. Belief and Optimism The grassroots leaders whom we interviewed who had remained resilient had strong convictions that change was possible. When they encountered obstacles, felt that change was not occurring quickly, or saw change stall altogether, they maintained their belief and optimism that change would eventually occur. Many grassroots leaders commented on the importance of believing in their initiative, that change can and does occur, and that obstacles are just temporary. One participant noted: You have to believe in the change. And you have to be totally committed to the change, and you have to be able to support and defend your ideals, that the change will be good not only for the people but also for the organization.

This steadfast and consistent belief in change kept grassroots leaders from being overwhelmed by challenges. They saw challenges as temporary. They took a long-term view toward and believed in the transformative potential of change. For example, a grassroots leader who worked for environmentalism reflected on her optimism and how it had to be constantly re-formed as change is so long term; thus, true optimism had to be recrafted in the face of these hurdles and let-downs: But one of the things that I have learned is that organizational change, you know, I had such optimism about how a change could be made, and everything would be different from that point forward, but the truth is, the change has to be made, and made, and made, before it becomes culturally wrapped into whatever the environment, so we’re struggling with that.

The optimism was significant for those individuals making large-scale and value-centered changes that required an incremental approach. This grassroots leader had to be optimistic that each change (and overcoming those challenges) would progressively lead to a value of environmentalism in the college culture. Optimism also extended beyond a single institution or timeperiod. When grassroots leaders were unable to achieve their goal at one time or at one institution, they were able to tap into optimism to begin again when the institutional climate changed or they moved to another college. Optimism and a belief in the transformative potential of change helped individual leaders to remain resilient. Moreover, optimism created an environment to help others maintain their commitment. One grassroots leader explained:



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One other thing is when you have this realization it becomes addictive, and I think everybody would like to see results once they get past that activation energy—like planting a healthy garden or raising a family. But it has to be in a positive way; even if you have anger, you have to channel it positively both for yourself and for the cause you are championing.

Being an optimistic leader and participant in a change process was infectious. Others saw the grassroots leader being optimistic and used that energy to move forward and maintain a commitment to the initiative. Maintaining Balance Maintaining optimism and engaging in reflection to maintain a personal vision require grassroots leaders to have a balanced lifestyle, a lifestyle in which they engage in personally sustaining activities (for example, church). In addition to work in community organizing and activism, grassroots leaders who remained resilient were also likely to engage in spiritual and/or religious communities, remain active in community organizations, and stay connected to family and friends. These activities drew them away from being too immersed in the trials and tribulations of change and helped them gain a perspective on their change activities within colleges and universities. One participant explained the importance of balance: By trying to have fun, and even out of work, trying to have a life. One thing I do need to work on is saying “no.” I don’t say “no” enough, and I find myself getting run dry because I don’t say “no.” But it has its advantages, though. I just judged a NAACP youth talent competition in Cityville. They’re like, “Please help,” so in a way it wasn’t really university related. I represented myself as a person who works at the university, but it was fun, it was dance, something that I like, so my category was dance, and I think sometimes just getting involved in something outside of work, having a social life outside of work helps me remain balanced. You tell students if you get involved in student organizations your grades will get better; I feel like as much as I complained about having to do so and so, it’s like, “Uh-oh, I have to do this, I have to do that,” I think that keeps me grounded. I think it’s just having an outside life and trying to keep a balance with myself; it keeps me focused.

Maintaining balance can be difficult because outside activities can be time consuming, but leaders consistently noted that having those outlets was important to stay committed and focused on change activities. While some grassroots leaders did not actively engage in activities outside higher education, they did discuss the importance of a work–life balance. Meaning, grassroots leaders understood that working long and

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extra hours and putting work over and above personal concerns would lead to burnout. One participant explained: You really have to put yourself first. You have to say to yourself, “I am not going to be cheap labor for X university anymore. I have to do what is going to make a living for myself, and if that means leaving then I am going to leave.” You really have to put yourself first, and you have to be patient with things.

Another participant explained the importance of a relationship to draw a grassroots leader away from work: It’s interesting, because my personal life, it’s both made it more difficult to be a good leader, because of the time commitment there and obviously the tensions that happen at school go into that relationship. At the same time, if I didn’t have that relationship, I don’t think I would survive. I would be a workaholic. I already am, but I would be more of a workaholic. I wouldn’t have any balance, and I would have no outlet.

Because many grassroots leaders work from a strong personal vision and a passion, they are more likely to overwork and lose sight of the importance of balance. Having commitments outside of work (that is, families, engagement in community activities, book clubs, religion) helps to pull grassroots leaders away from their activities and create more work– life balance. Maintaining balance can be difficult for grassroots leaders who want to move change forward quickly. To attempt to balance personal and professional lives and push toward change, grassroots leaders integrate their many work responsibilities into their initiatives. A grassroots leader explained the tension: I’ve seen some people here do some things that I know they must lose sleep at night, but they’re doing it for their own career, so it’s that balance of career and principles and career and lifestyle, and yet because our work conditions are so tenuous, really, at will especially, even those who come in here hoping this is going to be a career path for them, they get pretty brutalized, and it’s not just about a learning curve.

Inner Reflection As mentioned under the heading “Personal Vision,” resilient grassroots leaders engaged in reflection to recall and connect to their vision for an initiative. Grassroots leaders also checked in with themselves to effectively ascertain feelings and emotions. Reflection was a constant engagement process for grassroots leaders, not just at the beginning or end of a movement or during times when encountering obstacles. As succinctly



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Melinda: Paying the Price for Working the Third Shift For those individuals who could not integrate their change initiative into their work in some way, their grassroots leadership became a third shift, and they worked many additional hours to fulfill their passion and create change. While they often gladly gave up this extra time because they were so passionate about the change, this choice did result in family and career sacrifices. Often, it took them years to realize that they had jeopardized their relationship with their children or their spouse, that they had forgone responsibilities to their parents, that they had not been active in their communities or schools, or that they had missed a promotion. In retrospect, many people began to see the great sacrifice and costs that they were incurring to create meaningful change. Melinda described frustration as she detailed her efforts to create a learner-centered teaching approach at the community college. In her work in academic affairs over the years, she became aware of the achievement gaps among students and lower retention rates for certain groups. To understand the issue, she had explored student outcomes, learning styles, and retention approaches. She became involved with other individuals on campus who were concerned with student success but as an informal group. All of their meetings were after work or during lunches. They also decided that they needed to do research and readings so they could have more justification and support for the ideas they were putting forward. The overall campus did not see the same problem or feel it was a priority to address the issue. Melinda described how the meetings began to take a toll, especially because of the additional work it created over time: I felt like I left each meeting with homework, and I guess I did. On the weekends I was reading about learner-centered approaches. I often had to give up on the other activities, like going to the park with my child. But everyone else was doing readings, and it felt like I needed to keep up and contribute just like everyone else.

Melinda encouraged others to find better ways to integrate grassroots leadership so it would not compromise their lives as much.

stated by one grassroots leader, “It is an absolutely every day kind of consciousness. Constant consciousness of checking myself and making sure that I am true to my personal values and remembering why I came here and my kids.” This constant checking-in happens briefly and sporadically for some grassroots leaders and more consistently for others. A grassroots leader who has a strong spiritual side described her morning affirmations and the importance of reflection in her change work:

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Affirmations I live my priesthood using my plans to heal and bless. I embrace the role of prophet, speaking out against wrongs after the manner of my brother, Jesus—the compassionate one. I celebrate other’s joys and mourn with them in their sorrow and stand with them against injustices that diminish their being or block their destiny, and that’s profoundly what my life has been about. I cherish the earth and work to arouse others to do the same. I look to the animals, with whom I share my life, to remind me that I must answer to them for use of their resources. I raise my voice for those whose voices are crushed and not heard, especially the children, the animals, the rocks, the trees.

I do a lot of inner reflection of work, and I do a lot of thinking at a deep level about what the world is about, the big-picture questions, a meditative kind of approach. I begin the day with a set of affirmations about who I am in the world and just being able to affirm certain things about who I am, things that are nonnegotiable.

There are challenges to constant reflection, similar to the challenges in maintaining balance. Faculty grassroots leaders carry too many responsibilities, thereby limiting the time available for reflection. A faculty member explained, “Another hurdle is that the ability to exchange ideas and collaborate—it is an issue of time and where are we going to put our time. We are expected to write, to do research, experiment, mentor, advice, and go to conferences. So how do we carve enough time out for what might be called the ‘leisure of reflection’ to make sure our change efforts are making a difference and progressing well?” The time commitments of tenure track faculty faced with high expectations and the impending tenure and promotion process are increasing over time. Not only is it difficult to engage in grassroots leadership, remaining resilient is difficult when reflection loses priority to other responsibilities. Grassroots leaders use reflection to maintain personal vision, stay optimistic, and maintain balance, all necessary for resiliency. These acted as a feedback loop (see Figure 9.2). The feedback loop works as follows. Grassroots leaders have a personal vision that they work to stay connected to for resiliency, and inner reflection is one way to achieve this. They use humor and optimism as they hit obstacles along the way, and



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Inner reflection

Realistic perspective

Maintain personal vision

Maintain balance

Humor

Stay optimistic

Figure 9.2.  Feedback loop of intrinsic sources of resiliency.

through focusing on their personal vision they remain optimistic and can have humor. They need reflection to keep checking in on that personal vision. In the long run, they need to maintain balance and have a realistic perspective to stay connected to the personal vision, and inner reflection helps foster the balance and realism. These various aspects reinforce each other and form the feedback loop. An advantage to the feedback loop, which begins and ends with inner reflection, is commitment gained toward creating change and the knowledge of the kind of culture or context that would facilitate change. Many of the experienced faculty and staff grassroots leaders who spoke to us had become more selective in choosing their next workplace. Because they were firmly committed to certain changes, being in an environment that would not support changes could be stifling. While they recognized that the overall institution might not be supportive of the child care center they wanted to start their efforts to get more women and minorities into sciences, or their student-centered approach to teaching, these grassroots leaders did realize that the people whom they directly worked with needed to be supportive of their passion and interests. As a result, staff, in particular, were very careful to evaluate the work environments they entered. They also discussed openness to their leadership ideas

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­ uring the interview. When they started, they established expectations d for participating in grassroots work. Humor Some grassroots leaders who remained resilient used humor to reduce cynicism. Humor helps to put obstacles and setbacks into perspective and inflates optimism for individuals and groups. One participant stated, “I’ve learned to put more limits [personal boundaries] than I have in the past. Keep laughing, humor, gotta have humor.” Another grassroots leader concurred: “You want to take success and a sense of humor in the broadest sense of it and understand that’s a part of life.” The opposite emotion for grassroots leaders was anger and frustration. Humor was a way to redirect those angry and frustrating feelings into more positive emotions, emotions that have the potential to motivate individuals and groups to continue to remain resilient and overcome obstacles. In groups, leaders used humor as a way to make light of difficult obstacles and constant challenges. One grassroots leader described using humor to show the irony in the difficulty of making change: We use humor. And this year we had, we got this partnership, an account with Staples. So Staples brought over this little—I don’t know if you’ve seen the commercials, and you hit this little thing, and it says, “That was easy.” So now, that’s kind of a running joke in the office. So, when little things happen or whatever, [pushed button] that was easy.

The “easy button,” as advertised by Staples, symbolized the irony of the very difficult process of creating change on a college campus. Each person in the group understood the irony and humor and used the shared understanding to maintain a realistic but optimistic attitude. For those grassroots leaders who worked alone, using humor was difficult. They did not have others with whom they could make light of obstacles and find humor in the most difficult challenges. Making a Difference A significant source of resiliency for grassroots leaders was seeing progress—evidence that they were making a difference. Often, even feedback from students or witnessing change reminded them that the work they did made a positive difference in the institution and positively affected students’ lives. A grassroots leader summarized the importance of seeing change to her resiliency:



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Right now, as with many people in grassroots efforts, we donate our time. Where other people are doing the exact same thing and get paid a lot of money, we are still in that job that doesn’t quite pay as much and volunteering our time for things that other people are getting paid for, fighting the good fight . . . and so we don’t get rewarded monetarily or financially for what we do. So, it is just the knowledge that you have affected another person, and you don’t want them to have to go through the same thing you went through.

As this grassroots leader stated, seeing change occur and knowing that others would be in institutions that were more equitable made the difference that negated the frustration, anger, and difficulties of creating change. Seeing the benefits and believing that they are making a difference for people could be all that many grassroots leaders needed to remain resilient. Because many grassroots leaders directly work with students and/or on initiatives to improve the conditions for students, seeing a difference being made for that group was the major (and often only) source of resiliency. A grassroots leader who was facing many obstacles at the time of the interview described the importance of making a difference among students: Last couple of quarters, it’s been hard. It’s been really tiring. I’m here all the time, which sounds so cliché, but I really get a lot of energy from the students, so I feel like as long as—of course there’s all the staff and faculty work, and the Multicultural Staff Association, the APA Staff Association, to work on issues and stuff like that. But if I’m not directly working with the students, I don’t feel like there’s really any worth to my work. I think that’s just one way, being surrounded by them as much as I can, because they really see the energy.

Another participant shared a similar sentiment: “I think it’s maintained by realizing that that’s my source of passion, for me. It is to figure out how to do that, to do good causes for my students. So it’s been really sustaining.” Making a difference was one of the most important sources of resiliency for all grassroots leaders, including those who had the most difficulty remaining resilient. However, seeing students succeed and seeing positive change occur were not enough to maintain momentum. In Toby’s narrative, at the end of the chapter, she highlighted the challenges to maintaining resiliency. Her ability to create change and see differences in the lives of students was not enough to keep her moving forward. Having a Realistic Perspective Throughout this chapter, several of the themes have pointed to the importance of having a realistic understanding of the slow pace of change.

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By doing so, the grassroots leaders were able to celebrate the incremental changes, remain optimistic about future changes, and maintain a realistic perspective to remain resilient. A group of people at the research university were advocating for a better child care center. One of the grassroots leaders explained how she took an incremental perspective to change that helped her appreciate the change and hope for more: It’s really been a matter of using my family as sounding board and trying not to get emotionally overinvolved, especially because my role has been to be the more detached person. I haven’t gotten hugely worked up over this. . . . I’m not going to invest a lot of myself emotionally in beating against a wall here. So, although I would love to see some significant changes, and I believe that those changes could make it a significantly better place, I also believe that the thing that is hardest to get in a child care program, we already have. And so I am trying to, trying to maintain a sense of perspective about what we are trying to get.

One method for maintaining a realistic perspective is to separate one’s identity from the change initiative. A participant who worked tirelessly on issues related to lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered (LGBT) students explained how she separated herself from the change work: I’m not married to this issue, to these issues, advocating for LGBT rights, for LGBT students . . . it’s not my sole purpose in life, so while I’m here, I put on a hat, and I certainly take it seriously . . . come 5:00, I’ve got a life to lead. I’ve got a partner to go to, I’ve got two children that I have to take care of. You know, I’ve become very good at not taking things personal and not personalizing my work. It’s hard to do, especially when you’re dealing with a community that’s so close to you. Maybe it’s years of self-reflection, and maybe it’s years of therapy, I don’t know what it is, but I don’t . . . I stay away from it, I stay away from personalizing my work.

Initiatives that held personal significance and passion made it difficult for grassroots leaders to create a detachment. Most grassroots leaders struggled with feeling personally attacked and losing friendships and personal connections. The personal attacks made resiliency particularly difficult. But creating a sense of detachment helped to put in perspective the criticisms and barriers to advancement. Grassroots leaders were able to move forward, without taking the challenges as personal indictments, and they were able to be more strategic about their choices. e x t r i nsic sou rc e s of r e sil i e nc y The external sources of resiliency include external groups, networks, family, and community members who create a supportive environment



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that allows grassroots leaders to vent, commiserate, gain perspective, and receive advice. Grassroots leaders make a point to find and connect with others who are passionate about the issue and support their efforts. By doing so, they identify others who provide moral or emotional support to overcome obstacles and challenges. Networking and Professional Development with Like-Minded Grassroots Leaders One of the first ways that grassroots leaders remained resilient was through networking and creating opportunities to engage in professional development. Grassroots leaders reached out to external networks constituted by people who did the same kind of work or were interested in the same issue. For example, participants working on increasing diversity on campus may belong to a professional network of people who do that work on campuses across the country. Finding a network of individuals with similar interests often occurred through active engagement in professional associations focused on the issue or topic on which they are seeking change. On participant shared that she remained resilient by attending conferences: “Going to the conferences was one. I also go to a lot of conferences and encourage people to do so as well so that you can get support from others.” Another grassroots leader discussed how the national network helped to overcome challenges in fostering change: Recently three of us traveled to the National Association of Chicano Studies conference last month, and that’s sort of where we began to brainstorm about this, and we thought, “Gosh, these conferences are great, but there’s really not an opportunity for us to really talk about our work with students and what we can do to foster change, and it’d be really important if we could do that institutionally,” and so then this idea of a symposium came up and, “How are we going to do that?” We’ll work with [name] in the Latina/o Student Center and see if she’s interested, and so that was one of the things we’re going to be working on.

Attending a conference or professional development helped the grassroots leaders remain resilient by legitimating their change initiative. Finding others who had similar ideas and challenges and were actively thinking about specific issues (that is, diversity, learning-centered initiatives, leadership development, environmentalism) validated their concerns and struggles. One grassroots leader noted: They had attended an AAHE [American Association of Higher Education] conference and come back really very excited about what they’d heard and decided it was time to ask the students, “Tell us about teaching, and tell us what you

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see as effective teaching,” as opposed to us trying to figure that out or making presumptions based on our own biases and things that we thought were important. Are those really important to students? Let’s hear from them. So that was actually an effort that kind of grew out of that and happened early on in this learning community effort.

The interest in focusing more on learning, as opposed to grade point averages, at the Regional Public was supported by the AAHE conference participants and helped these grassroots leaders find terminology and methods for engaging in the learning-centered movement. Without this support, the movement could have easily faltered because campus support was low, and the understanding of how to proceed was unknown. For faculty, they often found the network in academic disciplines, external to the specific college. A faculty grassroots leader explained: I have a network of sociologists. Sort of exchange of ideas: “Have you tried this? Have you done that? What would you do here?” The first time I had a little confrontation I think from the dean, I wasn’t sure . . . I can remember the others: “This is a political attack, and you need to be ready to sue her for creating a climate that hostile to faculty of color. You can win it.” It didn’t come to that, but having that kind of virtual network, you can get some of that.

The national and disciplinary networks helped to define the issues, brain­storm solutions, and create a foundation of support. Find a Supportive Supervisor or Champion and ­On-Campus Networks Faculty and staff grassroots leaders describe the way that a supportive supervisor or champion can also help to minimize risks. One pretenure faculty member described how a champion within the department made it possible for her to continue to work on the child care center: I’m fairly certain I would have stopped my work on the child care center without John’s help. People kept questioning my work to create the center, and John was able to articulate how this work could enhance my scholarship to related gender issues. He constantly tried to make the argument that the work I was doing to create change was also going improve my scholarship. I’m not sure I would’ve thought to make that argument, and it certainly legitimized my work to other people. It also provided a shield for me to do my work and get rid of the cloud that was beginning to develop about whether that work was legitimate.

Another form of networking was to develop on-campus or cross-unit groups. The support networks internal to the campus (as opposed to those networks found during external professional development opportunities) provided opportunities to commiserate and vent, ultimately



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creating a culture where it is acceptable to express frustration while remaining optimistic. A staff member explained, “I vent to my boss a lot. I will call her at home. She is definitely been a very good resource for me. . . . She is very supportive.” Another grassroots leader agreed, “Other than that, I think it’s just, again, the friendships I have at the college in different units help me keep going, to vent, to commiserate, or to really get excited about something as well.” The support network may not have active involvement and knowledge of the issue or the campus policies; yet the opportunity to discuss the problem, to speak about the issues, provides the support that many grassroots leaders needed to continue their efforts. Cultivating a network meant that grassroots leaders were able to find internal groups that were supportive and trust­worthy and that complemented external networks. Their networks served as sounding boards and provided advice and strategies for creating change. The leaders drew the energy to move forward from these groups. Two other extrinsic sources of resiliency that served a similar function were the community and family. Working in the Community The narratives of the grassroots leaders, presented in Chapter Four, hint at an engagement in grassroots activities outside the higher education context. In fact, a large number of the grassroots leaders began their change work in the local community, outside higher education. As a source of resiliency and as a way to maintain their personal vision, the grassroots leaders worked on higher education activism concurrently with the community work. The grassroots leaders used their community work as an outlet for their frustrations and as a place to express other organizational identities (for example, not just a person of color but an experienced student affairs professional) so they could separate self from the role they took in the grassroots effort. In addition to Kevin, whose narrative was described in more detail in Chapter Four, several other faculty and staff discussed the importance of community work and activism as spaces for renewal and energy, particularly when they faced challenges and obstacles in college-based change efforts. One faculty member described her activities outside the campus: I do a lot of activity outside the campus as well. I mean, I don’t live on campus. I live half an hour away, intentionally to be in a very different kind of community, to interact with people. So when I come here, I have to have a little bit of space, too, but I go to demonstrations. I get kind of empowered with fuel and energy in those spaces.

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Being active members in multiple communities helped grassroots leaders to find other places in which they are successful and to use that success as a source of empowerment and renewal to continue on-campus change efforts. Drawing from Family A common theme across the grassroots leaders is the importance of family to maintain personal resiliency, specifically with connection to personal and social identity. Several grassroots leaders discussed how family provided support during difficult times, helped them to maintain their personal vision, hold onto their identities as a person of color or from the working class, and helped to maintain balance in an allencompassing work life. One participant succinctly noted, “My family really keeps me grounded and reminds me of where I came from. When I say ‘family,’ I mean my children and my husband but also my siblings.” Grassroots leaders who came from underrepresented groups on college campuses were challenged to maintain their ethnic and cultural ties while they operated in the dominant culture of the college. Family helped to maintain those identities and kept them grounded. Moreover, family also operated as a support network similar to the theme of cultivating a support network. One participant explained how her brother helped her strategize about change efforts: To continue, so I have a strong support network in terms of family. I mean my mother, my brother; we’re very close. Literally we’re all in a five-mile radius. My brother is older than me. He’s an academic as well, so he teaches at a state university, and so we’ve actually done articles together. So it’s actually really nice. I talk to them all the time, probably at least two to three times a week. I talk to my mom, my brother probably every day, you know, because it’s someone . . . he’s also trying to affect change in the university where he is. We check in; we compare notes. I talk to friends also from grad school still that are kind of throughout.

While having a brother who is an academic may be a unique situation, other grassroots leaders in our study mentioned family members who shared their values and provided guidance to ways to navigate academic cultures. For example, Kathleen’s family maintained a commitment to environmentalism and was a source of knowledge of ways to strategize for change. Family continued as a thread in many of the themes associated with support because family was so central to the efforts of most grassroots leaders. Many grassroots leaders used a combination of intrinsic and extrinsic ways to remain resilient. Mike and Kathleen, for example, relied heav-



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ily on their personal passion while drawing from family, reflecting on a regular basis, and cultivating a support network. The grassroots leaders also drew on these sources at different times, depending on the obstacles. To illustrate the complexity of sources of resiliency, we present Maria’s and Toby’s narratives, describing the challenges when drawing on these sources. While many of the grassroots leaders remained resilient, tapping into these sources of resiliency often poses challenges, as already alluded to. maria Maria, a student affairs professional at a research university, began as the director of the diversity center that focused primarily on the Latino community, a large population in this urban area. When she entered the university as the director, the Latino community was skeptical of her abilities to create a friendlier climate on campus; she felt a “bitterness” from the students and did not find a sense of community among Latino students, faculty, and staff. The environment was relatively inhospitable, but she was charged with creating an advisory committee for the center and “ensuring that they [Latino students] have a positive experience on campus, so that retention rates are not only increased, but good retention rates, and it’s much more beyond retention rates but is about having a good, positive experience for the Latino students.” To understand the forms of resilience that Maria used, it is important to illustrate the resistance that she encountered. First, the overall university community did not welcome change, which she expected: “I knew that coming into this position there would be many people on campus who thought this position should not exist and would not help me and might even block my work.” However, what she did not expect was resistance from the Latino community and students. Student were bitter because “they felt like stepchildren”; the Latino community was very fragmented. Maria explained: When I got here, just before I got here, people were feeling like it was very fragmented. Students had their own interests because we are a very diverse campus; even within the Latino community it is very diverse, and it was fragmented, different segments, and they weren’t talking. No one was talking to each other, and it was very unhealthy in terms of the bigger Latino community.

Another form of resistance was the general distrust for the university establishment among Latinos. Maria noted, “Slowly we would have a voice, but the community didn’t trust me because I was also seen as the

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establishment. I was hired by the vice president, and so to prove myself I needed to do things so they could gain my trust or at least feel that they could confide in me.” Finally, gender relations within the Latino culture challenged Maria: Also, there was a parent group; Disconnected Tempered Radical University has a very strong Latino parent organization, and they are an amazing group. They are really good, but they challenged me and resisted me because I was a female, I was a woman. That was so disheartening, it was really sad, and I think at that point I took it much more personal than I should have, but that was some resistance that I got within my own Latino community.

Maria entered the research university faced with multiple forms of resistance. To overcome the challenges, she employed many of the strategies discussed in Chapter Five. Here, we highlight the ways that she remained resilient in the face of challenges from the university culture, students, and the local community. Maria’s resiliency came from the sources outlined above. She found external sources of resilience through networks, professional relationships, and development opportunities inside and outside the university. First, she cultivated a group of like-minded people of color across the campus. She noted, “The game is about networks here at Disconnected Tempered Radical University. The game is about making some change through a small group.” The network worked an “underground railroad” to help students of color on the campus. The second source of support was from her professional association, an external group. Maria explained: I recently went to NASPA’s women’s symposium, which was amazing. Amazing. And so I would say I just had a huge sense of relief when I was meeting other women who were in positions like mine or higher up, and it was just very comforting, and I developed friendships with some of these women, and now they are in other states, but we are e-mailing each other and providing support for one another, and they are getting their EdDs and PhDs, and they have families. It was an amazing experience.

These two forms of networks became Maria’s support group, providing help to assist students but also to support her in a position that she often considered lonely. Maria also drew from her family as sources of support and the Latino community for resiliency. As with many of the grassroots leaders, family served as a source of support and a way to maintain balance. Her family was also a source of balance; she would remind herself of her commitments at home and her need to resist staying late at work too often. Second, the Latino community also operated as a source of support



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akin to family. She explains how the Latino community, particularly the group of parents, were resistant to Maria initially because they were concerned that she, as a woman, would not be successful. Yet, after the first major event on campus, they realized her potential and began to show her respect. Maria explained, “Actually, after the first posada they came back, and by the end of the year they loved me, and I don’t know why, but I think it was the hard work, and I was true to my word.” That provided a source of inspiration to her, to have the Latino community support. In terms of internal sources of resiliency, Maria maintained a personal vision, was optimistic, and focused on incremental change. Maria held to her personal vision through her deeply held personal values: “I have a strong vision, and I never lose track of it. It keeps me grounded daily, and I have friends and family who are there to remind me if I ever waver.” Maria engaged in inner reflection, constantly checking in to see if she was being true to her beliefs and maintaining her personal values in her actions and decision making. Along with a steadfast commitment to her values around students of color and college success, Maria maintained an optimism that she could create change on this conservative campus. Maria did not explicitly discuss her optimism, but she believed that change could occur over time: After I assessed what was going on in the first nine months of my job, I held a one-day retreat with the stakeholders. I invited faculty, staff members, students, parents, alumni, and a lot of people to be there and just talk about what we wanted to see for the Latino community. We developed an eight-year plan; we didn’t call it an eight-year plan, we just developed a plan of where we wanted to be, and I suspected that it would take about eight years to get there, and we got it done in five.

This quotation also reflects her realistic perspective on change. She entered her position with a relational attitude—believing in the importance of relationships to create change, wanting to engage the multiple communities, and slowly and strategically creating change. She felt that it would take years to accomplish their goals. The slow and incremental change that she witnessed over the years, such as students coming to her with complaints about racism, helped her to maintain her resiliency and supported her understanding of the need for change to occur over time. She explained how students came to her with complaints: I never got any complaints during my first year at the center; my second year I got one or two; and after that I was getting dozens a year. It got to the point that the students were talking to each other saying it was OK to bring the issue to me and that I took action.

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Several annual traditions served as reminders that Maria was making a difference on the campus. The graduation ceremonies and an on-­ campus event that brought in the local community symbolized change and progress toward cultural acceptance for Latino students and culture. Maria enthusiastically noted: One of the other ones—I love this one because it happens every year—is the Chicano graduation. Just being able to process through the campus with our caps and gowns, walking down to the field where we are going to have our ceremony—I think that’s . . . and the tradition is the director leads the procession. So, that was successful to me every year that I was able to do it. Was really about: “this is my community,” not in terms of “I own it,” but this is our community, we are walking down Disconnected Tempered Radical University, one of the major universities in the whole country, and we have all these students participating, and every year our numbers are increasing, and that to me was just a matter of everybody taking ownership. Students were just participating; Chicano graduates because they had a positive experience on campus. It is optional. They don’t have to do it, and as the numbers increased every year, it was a reality check that whatever it is we are doing, we are on the right track.

She continued with a discussion of an event: The first event was so amazing. We were expecting about eighty people, the parents made tamales, they made drinks, they made everything, very grassroots, it was amazing, and we probably got about 200 people. We were expecting eighty, I cannot tell you how we had enough food. Everybody ate. Even the parents came back, and they used the parable of Jesus Christ with the fish and somehow the fish and the loaves kept coming, and they didn’t know where they were coming from, but somehow they kept coming, and that is how we all felt, and we left that posada night thinking “How did we feed all those people?” And we knew, and we counted, we counted the tamales, we counted the pan dulce, and we had no idea how these people got fed. That was one of the greatest moments of success for me, and it just kept going the whole week, that student coming back not knowing we had that much presence on campus was amazing.

Maria, much like the other grassroots leaders in our study, encountered challenges and resistance from multiple layers of the university and from many constituent groups. Yet she managed to maintain her resiliency through extrinsic sources of support in the form of networks, professional organizations, the community, and family. Maria maintained her personal vision, reflected, and remained optimistic and realistic over her five years as director of the center. She also reminded herself annually— for example, the posada—of the ways that the campus has changed; the ways that she has managed to make a difference. These annual reminders were undoubtedly symbols of perseverance that can lead to success.



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toby While Maria found many sources of resiliency throughout her career and used a combination of intrinsic and extrinsic sources, other grassroots leaders found it difficult to tap into these sources. Primarily, capitalizing on sources of resiliency was most difficult for those individuals who faced extreme challenges during their change efforts, became caught up in their personal passion, and lost balance, reflection time, and perspective. They were also primarily isolated and unable to cultivate a network of supporters. In addition, many grassroots leaders work tirelessly toward change and often believed that they could be successful if they just worked hard and long enough, but these sources of resiliency have diminishing returns over the years. Here we present Toby, a community college faculty member who experienced difficulty tapping into these sources. Toby has been a community college faculty member for over thirtyfive years. She started in a part-time position while attending graduate school in a large city. She moved into a full-time position once she completed her degree. Quickly, Toby became aware of the major differences between community college students and those she worked with at a four-year university. She explained, “A lot of them needed remedial work, and some of the students I was teaching were older. Some of them were eighteen, but a lot of them were older.” To help the students who were struggling in her classes, she wrote a grant that funded a project to create a two-tiered program for remedial and advanced students. Her goal was to both help those students who needed the most assistance, primarily the remedial students, and highlight and support all the extremely intelligent students in an honors program. To find continued support and market her successful program, she began attending national and state conferences and organized a local conference with the local university. The heading for the conference brochure was “The brightest and the best provided by [State] community colleges.” The challenges and obstacles that Toby encountered began soon after the conference. Toby became a well-connected and visible figure on campus through her successful grant seeking, highly attended local conference, and visible programs. She explains the backlash from her colleagues: “My colleagues became very upset that I was showing off students, and I was the latest blah, blah [celebrity].” Although Toby responded by showing her colleagues data of the success her program was achieving, particularly with students of color, she began to feel that her colleagues were jealous and sought to isolate her. At a social event with

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a colleague who was also a personal friend, she felt that “he was acting very strange around me.” When she confronted the colleague, it became clear that the resources available to her because of the grant money and her visibility were a source of tension. She noted, “People seemed to be angry with me, and I can understand it.” She continued by explaining that just having a phone in her office symbolized that she was more important than her colleagues, and these types of symbols were a source of tension. In addition, she believed, “Part of it had to do with me becoming an activist, with me stepping outside of my role as an English teacher and being an ethnic minority.” Challenges and obstacles also manifested, in Toby’s terms, “cultural mediocrity” and came directly from administrators who did not want her subsequent grant-funded programs within the local school district. Her college president complained that her brochures were “too glossy and showy,” which Toby perceived as a cultural expectation that faculty should not “step out and show attention to themselves.” Faculty were expected to stay within the role as teachers and just do the minimum, hence the term cultural mediocrity. She also worked tirelessly to get meetings with the local school superintendents and principals; everyone was enthusiastic about partnerships but did not pursue the work afterward. The final and most dramatic moment of resistance was during a meeting when she “was crucified and became a pariah.” In a meeting with the school district, her college president publicly accused her of pursuing relationships without his approval. Once again, she had stepped out of her role as a faculty member and was met with resistance. Toby did not stay at this college. She found some sources of resiliency in like-minded activists at colleges whom she met at conferences, but they were unable to balance the constant resistance from her colleagues and administration. The colleagues who did support her nationally and regionally were unable to affect her local environment. She did not have a local support network. Toby also faced extreme apathy from the local community, specifically the school district that she was attempting to support through grant-funded programming. Working in the community was also a difficult source from which to draw resiliency. Eventually, Toby left the institution and the programs that she worked so tirelessly to develop. Yet Toby’s belief and optimism, personal vision, and desire to make a difference were steadfast. At the new college, Toby continued her activist work and found the new environment ripe for the development of a new diversity conference. When she became president of the academic senate, she asked several colleagues who also were friends (local support network) to be members of a committee, and they readily agreed. The



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support from her friends and her personal vision, connected to her long family history of working on diversity issues, helped her to remain resilient in this specific initiative. Over time, however, the campus climate changed and “the vision was gone, or maybe changed in the last fifteen years. The vision has become ‘let’s build more buildings.’” After years of progress, she almost forgot the need to stay resilient. She was caught off-guard when the campus climate changed and roadblocks rose everywhere—new colleagues who had a different vision, administrators who were less supportive, longtime advocates retiring, and less interest and support on campus, making it more difficult to mobilize. She felt as though the administration created many of the roadblocks. Toby lost resiliency this time, and it was a major setback. She admitted: I did crumble. I don’t go to meetings; they are a joke. That was a time when I melted and collapsed, and I had illnesses over the years, and my voice went out. For the last five years, I did nothing [no grassroots leadership]. For two years now, I decided I was going to take a vacation. I had not taken one in many, many years.

When we spoke to her, Toby was looking toward retirement. She had faced many obstacles and, at times, found sources of resiliency to keep her moving forward. Yet these sources did not always balance the resistance, and she “crumbled.” Her story reminds us of the importance, yet difficulty, of staying resilient when you are passionate and hard working. It also points out the potential perils of success that leads you to forget the barriers and challenges inherent in grassroots leadership and that alerts bottom-up leaders on how to stay resilient. conclusion Grassroots leaders face considerable obstacles and challenges and are susceptible to power dynamics. Yet there are many examples of grassroots leaders who used intrinsic and extrinsic sources of resiliency to maintain their commitments and to move beyond and over the obstacles. The two narratives presented in this chapter illustrate how these sources of resiliency work in concert and the difficulties in remaining resilient over time. Toby had the personal vision, optimism, and belief that she could make a difference, and she had many examples over her thirty-five years of work of ways that she positively affected the lives of students. Yet these sources of resiliency alone could not temper the challenges. Toby abandoned her work at the first college because she

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could not ­remain resilient when the culture worked against her. She lost her drive for change at the second college when all her colleagues, the administration, and the local community ceased to become places supporting resiliency. Grassroots leaders need to combine intrinsic and extrinsic sources of resiliency, as illustrated in Maria’s narrative. By having multiple sources of resiliency, grassroots leaders can draw from different groups and individuals and use those sources that are most helpful given their current and most recent challenge. Grassroots leaders need to recognize that resiliency does not come easy. They have to first recognize that sources of resiliency exist and find multiple sources to draw from over time. In addition, these sources of resiliency change. Toby, for example, found her colleagues to be resistant at her first college but cultivated a local network at the second college. She also recognized when she needed to leave an institution, which can also be a choice toward resiliency. Resiliency, like peace, can be fleeting and needs constant vigilance.

chapter ten

Top-Down Meets Bottom-Up Challenges and Opportunities

; In Chapter Four we introduced Mike, a student affairs professional working in a research university who had been trying to improve the success of student athletes. For many years, Mike worked mostly on his own and with a few other bottom-up leaders. As he envisioned affecting more students and the culture of the institution, he looked for strategic opportunities to merge his efforts with other institutional change efforts, particularly around improving retention, diversity, and student success. He had found some openness with senior executives in more recent years and had been working to get them more involved in understanding why the institution needed to rethink its approach to working with student athletes. Mike had been careful to think about his ­approach to working with senior executives. He had assessed and capitalized on opportunities and tried to find individuals who understood the struggle of student athletes and could translate the struggle to members of the administration. He also judiciously used data and information to further his arguments. As you may remember from his story, he shared articles from the newspaper about challenges for student athletes as a way to sensitize leaders to the issues. He had allowed others to take credit for his ideas in order to further his initiative, knowing this to be strategic for moving forward. Mike wanted his agenda to move forward through converging with top-down efforts. Traditional leadership literature distinguishes between “top-down” and “bottom-up” leadership. The term top-down leadership is used to refer to organizational change activities or efforts that originate from organizational executives (for example, the president and her or his cabinet), while bottom-up leadership is another way of talking about grassroots leadership—change activities or efforts that originate from

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organizational members on the front line, who may not have the authority to mandate change. While almost all leadership studies have seen top-down and bottom-up leadership in isolation (shared or distributed leadership models being the exception), we examined ways that these two levels of leadership often work in tandem and develop insights into the challenges and opportunities of convergence between top-down and bottom-up leadership. It is important to distinguish that we look at convergence from the perspective of grassroots leaders trying to merge their efforts with top-down initiatives. As noted in Chapter One, the literature on shared or distributed leadership focuses on how bottom-up leaders can support top-down leaders. Our unique contribution to the literature is to look at convergence from the other direction. Therefore, the challenges and opportunities that we present reflect the interest and concerns of grassroots leaders, not the challenges top-down leaders encounter when trying to engage and foster shared leadership.1 Why is convergence so important? We have described successful faculty and staff grassroots leaders throughout this book who did not work in conjunction with top-down leaders in any real, meaningful way. In contrast, there were also a significant number of individuals and groups who tried to further their efforts through working with top-down leaders and converging efforts. The reasons typically expressed for working with top-down leaders stemmed from interest to more deeply or broadly create change. Once grassroots leaders were interested in diffusing their effort across the campus, it became clear that they needed to engage campus leadership and gain buy-in. Several contextual issues make convergence necessary for diffusion. First, faculty governance has eroded, and faculty have limited input into the larger institutional structure and culture to create wide-scale change. Second, faculty and staff often are disconnected from one another in their department silos and divisions. The networking that is needed to diffuse an initiative is difficult to create when faculty and staff do not join together regularly. While the opportunity certainly exists for furthering, broadening, and deepening efforts to create change through convergence, our study suggests that the outcome of such an effort is often neither successful nor particularly effective for either party. Around one-third of grassroots efforts to converge with top-down leaders were successful in our study, while two-thirds had mixed results or failed. In fact, our study is a cautionary tale to faculty and staff grassroots leaders who want to converge with top-down efforts because of several dangers, including cooptation. 2 However, we also found that using carefully chosen tactics for overcoming and navigating some typical obstacles can improve the success and effectiveness of grassroots leaders who want to attempt to



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deepen and broaden their efforts by converging with top-down leaders. Therefore, we offer strategies to try to improve the success based on cases that were able to meet the promise of converging. In summary, change can happen without convergence with top-down leaders and efforts, but broad diffusion and sustainability is more likely to happen when convergence occurs. However, for successful diffusion, leaders must use careful strategies and navigate obstacles. In this chapter, we highlight a variety of tactics that grassroots leaders used, including identifying the right time, identifying people to play a translator role, and negotiating effectively with administrators, managers, and executives to successfully merge with top-down leaders. We also examine challenges that occur in the convergence of bottom-up and top-down leadership, such as differing definitions of the change initiative, the co-opting of the change initiative by administrators, the skepticism felt by grassroots leaders toward administrators, or the experience of power dynamics. Lastly, we present several case studies where grassroots leaders identified interest among individuals in positions of authority and the tactics they used to synergize these two levels of leadership. These cases help illustrate the way tactics unfold over time, the way the two levels intersect, the challenges that emerge, and the outcome of converging efforts. Before presenting the cases, we review the various tactics and challenges. tac t ic s for con v e rg e nc e Bottom-up leaders use specific tactics to converge their efforts with topdown leaders. These tactics are related to, but distinctive from, the general tactics they used to advance the grassroots work described in Chapter Five. As grassroots leaders’ experiences indicate, if these convergence tactics are not used carefully, they can jeopardize the change initiative. First, bottom-up leaders should assess whether the timing is right for converging with top-down leadership. Creating a vision, network, and support seems important for ensuring that the campus is ready for greater institutional support from the top. Grassroots leaders who successfully converged with the top typically had long-standing histories and had already existed at the grassroots level for five and often ten to fifteen years. When several groups attempted to move from a set of enthusiastic faculty, with some leadership support to the larger campus, they quickly hit a wall when traditional faculty (not interested in education reform) resisted fiercely. They went back to the drawing board and realized that they needed more champions across campus and more

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awareness about the benefits of the reforms. Trying to move a bottomup initiative forward too quickly can jeopardize the success. The other campuses that were more successful with convergence took their time and built relationships within the grassroots group, tried to create champions across campus, and were generally patient with the process waiting for when the timing was right. Closely related to timing is capitalizing on and being open to opportunities. For example, several of the faculty who were part of an environmental initiative tested the waters from time to time with senior administrators to see if there were any opportunities for expansion. When the new president hired several new administrators who shared an interest in environmentalism, they seized the moment to broaden their efforts. With a diversity initiative at a community college, grassroots leaders also capitalized on a strategic time and opportunity when the office of diversity was established, and there was more attention across campus to diversity than previously. However, the case of the science pedagogical innovation (reviewed in detail later in this chapter) reminds bottom-up leaders to be cautious and closely evaluate the opportunity. Acting prematurely, before the timing is right, can lead to tremendous backlash. Questions that need to be considered are: Does the president already have support on campus before offering up support to an initiative? How long should grassroots efforts be in place before they try to move toward joining top-down leaders? The wrong timing can destroy a grassroots effort; a missed opportunity can prolong expansion and ultimately lead to the end of a change effort. Another important tactic was bottom-up leaders relying on translators (for example, the director of the office of diversity or faculty who have formerly been administrators) to help them frame their change initiative, to identify the right data to package their ideas, and to use the appropriate language to gain attention and support. Translators played a key role in helping bottom-up leaders understand how to present ideas to leaders in positions of authority. Bottom-up leaders are often so involved with the language of a movement that they do not recognize that individuals outside the movement will not understand certain terminology or philosophical arguments. Translators also played a secondary role; they were liaisons—communicating information up from the bottom and down from the top, creating a communication channel that typically would not exist. Successful grassroots leaders learned to understand the importance of translators, to identify good translators, and to maintain a strong relationship with these individuals. A critical tactic was sensitizing those in power to the change initiative. Through concept papers, speaker series, letter writing, posting



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signs, informal meetings, working through translators, using data, sending information to administrators, and having students present information, grassroots leaders helped top-down leaders to understand the importance of their change initiative. Grassroots leaders did not rely on any single approach but instead took every opportunity to make people in positions of authority aware of their initiative. They used different approaches to appeal to different top-down leaders. For example, the women’s group sensitized administrators to issues of diversity by sending data and feeding key information through translators (people sympathetic to both sides). In the environmental case at a liberal arts campus, they focused on using a concept paper to make people aware of the challenges of global warming. A joint faculty and student group presented the paper to the administration. In addition, they held a series of debates on campus, inviting people and key groups, and made sure that senior administrators were aware of the events. Later, they also sent research papers, newspaper articles, and materials about environmentalism and global warming to administrators who had expressed some openness to these concepts. Another tactic for sensitizing those in power is grassroots leaders managing up. “Managing up” is when those in subordinate positions in a hierarchy provide direction, support, and information to make managers more successful in furthering the direction of interest of the subordinate. Bottom-up leaders did not assume that those in positions of authority knew what resources, staffing, or support were necessary to help move their initiatives forward. Instead, they worked with their grassroots network and the translators to develop plans, later given to those in positions of authority to execute. For example, in the environmental case, the student assignments included plans of action (such as necessary resources and staffing) presented to the administration, containing a great deal of faculty direction and feedback. In addition, the presentations and speaker series suggested ideas for institutionalizing environmentalism and diversity. Managing up must be done with great care, or it can result in those in positions of authority feeling threatened and lashing out at the faculty or staff member. In the cases where people were successful, others perceived them as helpful and nonthreatening. But this also requires an assessment by the grassroots leader of the self-confidence of those in positions of authority. Insecure leaders are difficult to manage. Many might argue that there is no strict hierarchy in higher education—that, with shared governance, people should provide direction to those in authority. Our research suggests that campus hierarchies have solidified on many campuses in recent years and that managing up is increasingly one

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of the important ways to have an influence as shared governance dissipates. Yet no generalizations can be made, so grassroots leaders need to understand the culture and climate on their own campus when it comes to managing up. Securing membership on key committees was a tactic many grassroots leaders used to encourage the merging of their efforts with topdown initiatives. Committees or task forces on campus provide an arena where grassroots and top-down leadership can come together because there are representatives of different groups throughout campus within the membership. Because they typically involve administrators, faculty, staff, and students, committees provide an avenue for influence and impact among those in positions of authority, as well as influencing their planning efforts. If bottom-up leaders can get several representatives on a committee, they can have a greater influence. One example was a diversity initiative, where the leaders strategically placed members of their grassroots network on diversity committees set up by the administration to establish a voice and influence the direction of the initiatives. Faculty and staff need to think through the people who can be most persuasive on committees; this may be based on their communication skills and expertise or may be based on their background and experience that they can share. For a committee examining ways to improve campus governance, they might choose a faculty member from political science who can make persuasive arguments about democratic values and systems. For a child care center, they might choose a person who had experienced many hardships and who could tell powerful stories. Each grassroots group has to examine strategically the committee and determine who will be best to serve and what their role should be in furthering the effort. Perhaps not surprisingly, negotiation skills are necessary for ensuring that grassroots efforts are not subsumed by top-down efforts. Furthermore, negotiation skills also help demonstrate compromise on the part of bottom-up efforts. Grassroots leaders who showed no willingness to negotiate often found themselves shunned or at least not embraced by top-down efforts. The environmental case at the liberal arts college demonstrated how grassroots leaders had to negotiate with the president who had a different vision of environmental movement for the campus—focused solely on research and technology transfer (more commodified) to one focused on teaching and social justice. To try to expand the president’s view to include teaching and social justice, two members of the movement developed plans that were more comprehensive than the administration had expected. They thought that, if they started with ambitious plans with a large teaching component, in addi-



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tion to new research ideas, by the time the administration scaled back their efforts, they would obtain close to what they had hoped to achieve. Similar to the general tactics presented, creating coalitions with other grassroots initiatives or top-down initiatives that have a similar goal prove effective in the process of converging with top-down efforts. Grassroots leaders can use the coalition to create a base of support so that top-down leaders believe there is even greater support for the initiative than initially identified. For example, in the environmental case, the faculty aligned with the existing and powerful diversity initiative. At the community college, faculty and staff involved with the diversity initiative aligned with the student success effort. Interviewees noted that leaders in positions of authority hesitate to support efforts if they do not believe that people across campus broadly share an interest in the effort. Grassroots leaders who connect their initiative to others sometimes generate more support but at least create a sense of broader support than actually exists. Another tactic for grassroots leaders is garnering outside financial support for the ideas that can impress the importance of the initiative on top-down leaders. Members of the environmental movement obtained outside grants for the speaker series and salary money to team-teach courses. In the diversity initiative, they used the support from external conferences and experts to reinforce their ideas among those in positions of authority. In the innovative science reform, they obtained funding from the National Science Foundation to garner support from administrators and faculty colleagues who would have otherwise been suspicious of the legitimacy of the effort. Lastly, skepticism and suspicion are important tactics. Those in positions of power often do not share similar interests, and we found that grassroots leaders who held some skepticism about the genuine interest of top-down leaders ended up more closely meeting their original goals. At the community college, top-down leaders had different views of diversity than did faculty and staff on campus. For administrators, diversity meant addressing community needs and improving retention rates; it had more to do with public relations. For bottom-up faculty and staff leaders, diversity efforts meant trying to create a broader understanding of social justice and equity on campus and making race and class privilege more visible. Faculty and staff leaders were interested in fundamentally changing the curriculum and learning experiences to integrate their understanding of diversity. It is important to identify the genuine commitments of top-down leaders and not be fooled by empty rhetoric. Many in power are now embracing issues like globalization, interdisciplinarity, diversity, sustainability, or environmentalism ­because

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they see how these issues can be commodified and marketized. The innovative science reform case showed that the faculty needed to be more suspicious of the president and her ability to support their reform. Not all top-down leaders have legitimacy and support, and joining them can compromise rather than enhance efforts. Grassroots leaders need to question and understand the commitment of top-down leaders. Thus, a skeptical approach toward top-down leaders is encouraged by these cases. c h a l l e ng e s for con v e rg e nc e While we found many individuals and groups that were able to converge successfully with top-down efforts through the tactics we just reviewed, we heard about many difficulties and challenges that they faced as well. In this section, we present the challenges that will be elaborated on in the following case examples. Differing Interests As discussed under tactics, one of the successful approaches is to be skeptical of and/or question the overlap between top-down leaders’ interest in pursuing a particular change initiative and the interests of bottom-up leaders. A major challenge for bottom-up leaders is being aware of and recognizing that, although top-down leaders may talk about a similar issue such as diversity, environmentalism, student success, or globalization, their vision for the initiative may be quite different from grassroots leaders. In several chapters, we reviewed how top-down leaders face pressures to raise funding, cut costs, and focus on the managerial and business interests of the enterprise. In our research, the grassroots leaders and top-down leaders often felt they had similar interests. But later bottom-up leaders felt deceived when they discovered that those in positions of authority had a different agenda. Grassroots leaders were unsure whether communication had not been clear or whether active manipulation had occurred. In successful examples of convergence, grassroots leaders determined that the administration’s vision was different, even though it sounded quite similar to most campus observers. In some situations top-down and grassroots leaders had similar ideas but did not always adopt the same orientation or approach to these initiatives. In other situations, there were differences of political interest or simply different interpretations. Top-down leaders were often open to changing once they become aware of other ideas. It



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seems that a major challenge is to realize up front that these interests often differ. Discussion, questioning, and clear communication channels are extremely important during the initial stages of communication of convergence. Usurping the Change Initiative or Cooptation Once top-down leadership converges with grassroots leadership, it is important that those in positions of authority not usurp or even appear to be usurping the change. In the more successful cases of convergence, those in positions of authority allowed grassroots leaders to continue to shape the initiative as it moved forward. In the cases where convergence was less effective or fell apart, top-down leaders began to drive the initiative. The problem with administrators assuming too much responsibility for the initiative is that it appears that the top is appropriating the ideas of others and not giving them credit or honoring their prior work. Grassroots leaders should encourage administration to create stakeholder groups to maintain grassroots involvement in leadership efforts. Top-down leaders are less likely to cripple convergence when they officially acknowledge the prior work done by grassroots leaders in public speeches and events. Too Much Skepticism While being skeptical and suspicious of the interests of top-down leaders is an important tactic, being too skeptical can also be problematic in creating convergence between the two levels. Almost all the examples of convergence that we identified faced a challenging episode or situation where a set of individuals within the group became skeptical about their ability to converge with top-down leaders. Skeptics in a group need an opportunity to voice their concerns, and the group should dialogue about whether working with top-down leaders is truly in the best interests of the overall change effort. Unsuccessful efforts to achieve convergence typically stifle dialogue about differing views and conflicts. Successful efforts to converge were able to engage in productive dialogue, respect the skeptics, and make a decision that convergence was in the best interests of the change effort (and in some instances they may decide not to converge because the interests differ too much). However, in many cases we examined, grassroots groups had too many skeptics preventing the grassroots network from converging with top-down leaders—even when there was interest among many members and it appeared that there was true openness from top-down leaders.

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It is difficult to provide detailed advice because, until there has been a careful assessment of the interests of administrators compared to interests of grassroots leaders in each individual case, it will be difficult to know when a group of skeptics is overreacting. Sometimes choosing not to work with those in positions of authority preserves the integrity of the bottom-up change initiative, but in other instances this choice results in the bottom-up initiative remaining a fragile idea, constantly outside any institutional support. Therefore, the decision about convergence and determining whether the group is being too skeptical is extremely important for grassroots leaders to reflect on. It is a strategic decision in the effort that needs careful thought. Maintaining the Integrity of the Initiative Grassroots leaders who work with top-down leaders to create greater support for the initiative can often experience the challenge of being considered sellouts. The assumption is that, if certain faculty and staff grassroots leaders could effectively work with those in positions of authority and if there was not active friction, then those individuals must be making compromises and jeopardizing the integrity of the initial change effort. Almost all of the grassroots leaders labeled sellouts did not believe that their work with top-down leaders had compromised the change initiative. The process of labeling people as sellouts often stopped communication, broke trust, and closed channels to top-down leaders and within the group. Labeling people as sellouts generally resulted in splintering within the group, which can slow down, damage, or obliterate the movement. This is why skepticism and labeling people as sellouts are so problematic; they create intragroup strife that, as already noted in the chapter on obstacles, threatens the survival of the change effort. In general, any pattern of name calling and labeling others in derogatory ways creates seeds for intragroup strife. Therefore, it is critical that grassroots groups maintain strong relationships and treat each other with respect even as they see issues differently or experience conflict. Power Dynamics Power dynamics serves as a barrier to convergence in several different ways. In many instances, we documented top-down leaders becoming threatened as grassroots leaders’ power began to grow, and backlash often ensued, which destroyed the relationship between members of the top-down and grassroots groups. For example, in the diversity case pre-



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sented next, top-down leaders felt threatened by the women faculty as their power began to grow. Interviewees (including outside individuals beyond grassroots leaders) reported that the top-down leaders felt these women were influencing too many decisions on campus and had more power and influence compared to other groups. To equalize power, topdown leaders stopped reassigning members of the women’s group to committees and took away the leaders’ roles they had acquired. The administration’s efforts destroyed the relationship between members of the top-down and grassroots groups who had been working in concert. In the science pedagogy case, the power dynamics were between more senior faculty and administrators and newer faculty and administrators. The senior faculty were not supportive of the new pedagogical approaches of junior faculty, approaches the campus administration visibly supported. The seasoned faculty had many powerful connections in the community, including the media, and began attacks on the college president to break the allegiance between the junior grassroots leaders and the president. As these dynamics unfolded, they destroyed the alliance between the top and bottom. More details about these strategies and challenges are provided in the following cases. c a se s of top -dow n a n d g r a ssroo t s ­l e a de r sh i p con v e rg e nc e We now present these tactics and challenges in three cases from our study that represent trends in the data related to convergence. Each case presents different tactics the grassroots leaders ­adopted and different challenges that they faced. Often challenges were a result of tactics being used in less than adequate ways. We found that convergence between grassroots and top-down leaders can have several different outcomes, and each of the cases presented next reflects one of the three main outcomes we identified. The first outcome occurred when grassroots leaders successfully navigated and converged with top-down efforts to create lasting and long-term support and potentially institutionalize the change—the environmental case. The second outcome happened when some grassroots leaders felt that working with top-down leaders compromised their change, yet they acknowledged that the initiative had been further institutionalized and support garnered—the diversity case. The third outcome demonstrates how grassroots and top-down leadership can converge quite easily but still result in destruction of the change initiative—the science reform case. We put the tactics and challenges in italics so they are easier to identify.

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Environmentalism at a Liberal Arts College The first case of convergence took place at a liberal arts college. Several faculty in the sciences met and discussed their lack of contribution to solving real-world problems and the fact that so many students were graduating without a commitment to addressing challenges such as global warming. One of the faculty members wrote a provocative concept paper about transforming the college curriculum and changing its programs to address this problem. He described this process: “The concept paper really kicked off the movement here; it got people talking and helped us create networks with people across campus. We found out who was interested and where resistance was” (sensitizing those in power). Some faculty and administrators called for these “environmental fanatics to be fired—it was a difficult time.” Debate ensued, and while many were resistant to the ideas, several faculty from other disciplines (political science, sociology, anthropology, art history) eventually became interested in environmentalism and began meeting with the science faculty. They built this network through linking environmentalism to other initiatives (building coalitions). One faculty noted how environmentalism became linked to diversity: “Diversity was a real priority. It was being discussed across a variety of schools and disciplines. Some of us thought, ‘Hey, we can connect this to environmental problems in South America and Africa, to social justice and equity concerns that researchers committed to diversity might embrace.’” The main core of eight active faculty made efforts over the following ten years to transform the teaching of science into more interdisciplinary courses. They obtained outside grants because they did not have institutional support for their efforts or resources to team-teach (grants). They petitioned the administration for an environmental studies program and for a sustainability plan for facilities but had no success. Thus, they temporarily moved their efforts underground (timing). Eventually, a new president came to the college who was sympathetic to environmental issues; grassroots leaders noted that his first few speeches highlighted environmentalism (opportunity). While the president had a slightly different vision for the campus—his focus was more on research and technology transfer and less on teaching and campus sustainability practices—the group knew that convergence of their efforts with the administrators might create greater institutional change (noting differing interests). In the previous ten years, their efforts had been slow, gradually adding a course or getting more faculty members to support environmentalism on campus. A few colleagues within the network expressed concern that the president’s vision was too different,



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and they were generally skeptical of administrators: “The president kept talking about research on environmental issues, and he never brought up teaching or campus practices, which we are all really focused on, more so than research. That certainly worried many of us.” Based on their concerns, a few individuals left the initiative. Luckily, the leaders had enough trust and support with the remaining group to move forward. The many years spent developing relationships were key for the group to survive the schism (timing). The remaining group proceeded with a plan to capitalize on the interests of the new president. For example, they set up a series of meetings with the administrators and sent them strategically developed letters about institutional direction related to environmentalism, using data and research to support their ideas (sensitizing those in power). Members of the group identified two faculty members who had worked in the administration and could help them translate their ideas in ways that would be persuasive to campus administrators (translators). They obtained a grant to start an environmental speaker series, and they invited administrators. The administrators “were impressed because it demonstrated external money, support, and connections” (grant). They also began to include course assignments, for example one that had students examine the carbon footprint of the campus and present their results to the administrators. While they had had action research assignments in the past, they did not necessarily have the students present their final papers to administrators, nor had there previously been a willingness among administrators to hear from students (managing up). One faculty member described the strategies they used: Ann was great at writing letters to the administration. I could never write such persuasive letters. Dan and Liz could bring in the money, which helped support a ton of our efforts—the symposium, how to form a major, and other stuff. Bob and Wayne had a team of students studying the campus. Lots of things were happening at once. With this opportunity to get the administration’s attention, we just went for it. (opportunity)

Their efforts resulted in a broadened vision for the campus from research on environmentalism to a commitment to teaching environmentalism, including a new environmental studies program. In addition to getting support for a program, they also obtained a new building to house their efforts and to increase their research in this area. But their effort was not without challenges. At times, the president seemed to back away from a commitment or direction the grassroots leaders thought they had agreed on. One faculty member commented on how they addressed this issue:

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When it appeared the administration was backing off, we came up with even grander plans as a strategy to get the president to continue on the existing commitments. So, for the campus farm, they began to say they were not sure this was a good idea and we countered with—we think it needs to be twice as big as their proposal (and much larger than we really thought it needed to be). (negotiation and skepticism)

Ultimately, the president found himself with a more committed faculty because his vision was enlarged to include their grassroots efforts, which had been developing over fifteen years. Faculty still primarily led the initiative, but the top provided support—several top-down leaders acknowledged that it is important to honor those who have created the change by keeping them actively involved (honoring grassroots and not usurping). Six years later, bottom-up and top-down leaders shared a common commitment and concern for environmental issues. Both parties felt that the environmental movement had been a success on campus. As one faculty member noted, “We have more than I dreamed—a new building, a campus sustainability plan, a major, lots of faculty interest, a new curriculum, and tons of new support for environmentalism. But, like I said, we had lots of struggles, particularly early on, and people never believed we would achieve what we have—particularly working with the administration.” Diversity Initiative at a Community College The second example of convergence took place among a group of women leaders at a community college committed to hiring more women and faculty of color and helping students of color be successful—an effort they labeled a “diversity agenda.” The group began when three women faculty started to have lunch and talk about the remarkably low number of women of color on campus and women faculty within certain disciplines. Each lunch they invited more women until they were a group of fifteen, across a variety of disciplines. They met off campus at least monthly to think about ways that they could hire and retain more women and faculty of color and alter the curriculum and learning experiences to make students more successful. Over time, staff members began to join the group as well. Their luncheons involved reading texts (on racism, for example) and sharing data that would help them to brainstorm solutions. One faculty member noted the importance of these early meetings and their approach to reading together: I think you need a really solid base. These meetings helped us really, I mean, really get to know each other personally. We talked about experiencing racism;



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people were crying, people got mad. You need that openness and bonding to weather the long road of change and conflicts that might emerge. (timing)

Once they had developed a foundation with each other, they turned to campus approaches for strategically creating change. Faculty and staff at this time were actively against diversity and shared an anti–affirmative action sentiment. The women made a commitment to get on hiring committees and establish faculty development related to multicultural teaching. One faculty member noted that these strategies helped to make some progress: Getting on hiring committees was pivotal, and through that avenue, over the years, we did make some change on campus. The faculty development work came right out of our luncheon group and picked up on the same themes. We have continued these same two areas the last twelve years. (securing committees)

Several years after they began having lunches, campus leaders established an office of diversity, hired a director, and also created a diversity hiring committee—not based on pressures from the bottom up but because the administration had seen the office on other campuses and had a stated commitment to diversity (opportunity). The group was skeptical at first, rather than overjoyed: “It seemed to come out of nowhere, as if some one said, ‘You should have one of these offices.’ So we were not sure it would actually accomplish much or if the institution was really behind it” (skeptical). The group met for a few more years and began reflecting on the topdown efforts of the diversity hiring committee and described common concerns about institutional efforts to recruit and maintain a diverse faculty. The women believed that by combining some of their ideas with a process that had institutional support and money, they could create broader change. One staff member noted: Sure, we had gotten a handful of people hired and maybe changed the teaching practices of twenty to twenty-five faculty, but we were not making that much change after lots of years. We were a strong community but not a broad community. Sandra said, “Maybe the new office and the diversity hiring committee can be places we take our ideas and infuse them to have more impact.” We know we were sort of isolated.

They met for six months to strategize better approaches, including cluster hiring and mentoring. Then they realized they needed to gain access to top-down planning and started by contacting the director of the diversity office—inviting her to meetings. The director of the office of diversity played the role of liaison by working with the administration

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but also attending the women’s group (translator). One faculty member described the advantages of working closely with the director: She [the director] helped open up communication channels between us and the administration. It also made us aware of how to work with the administration—who we needed to talk with, who is influential. We also did not really understand how to talk effectively with the administration. Also, she suggested not only contacts, language, but also strategies like waiting until the budget is settled or not asking for money right away. So this helped formulate a better approach.

To affect top-down leadership efforts, some of the women contacted members of the hiring and curriculum committees and tried to persuade them to think about meeting goals differently. Because the women’s group had been meeting for years reading literature, gathering information from national conferences, building trust within the group, and sharing data, they gave this information (packaged especially well— based on information they got from the translator) to committee members, which turned out to be persuasive (managing up). Another member of the grassroots leadership group attempted to join the committee and eventually became a part of the top-down effort (securing committees). The group also persuaded one of the women of color to run for president of the academic senate. The administration was slowly supporting diversity, but there were still many faculty dissidents. Having a champion of diversity as senate president could help ensure that diversity efforts would not be thwarted, particularly curricular reform. The group used these women in positions of power to gain access to information, to share information with strategic people, and to gain influence in certain conversations (managing up). In addition, the women started a luncheon series where they talked about strategies for recruiting and maintaining diverse faculty and strategies for working with diverse students (sensitizing those in power). They created a coalition with a group committed to student success and pedagogical innovations, making the argument that they had similar goals and interests. In the past, they had mostly shared these materials among members of the group and were not able to reach out to faculty across campus—now they were reaching out to those interested in student success as well as others who expressed interest (creating coalitions). One staff member reflected on the strategies they used during this time period: This was an exciting time but also sort of hard. We enjoyed our small group and, with all this work to have an impact, we actually saw each other less, which I think led to some of the splintering in the group we are experiencing right now. I am getting ahead of myself, so we did two major things. We



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reached out to others with a similar interest in diversity, although they were calling it “student success.” We created a much broader group. We also lobbied certain groups hard, like the hiring and curriculum committees and the senate. We invested in getting on those groups. These efforts were very successful.

After two years of using these various strategies, the hiring task force committed to a different approach to the recruitment and retention of faculty involving different questions of candidates and new criteria. By six years later, they had been successful in dramatically changing the profile of their faculty and altering the curriculum. At the time of our interviews, the new strategic plan for the campus highlighted diversity as one of the major efforts for the next five years. As the preceding quotation suggested, the group had been experiencing some problems in terms of determining their direction—one group believed it could work with the administration and move forward, and another group felt that they needed to go back to being a bottom-up only group (skepticism). The group that wanted to return to a bottom-up approach believed that members of the administration had hired a more diverse faculty, but that they were hiring conservative individuals and that the radical goals of the group were being subverted and watered down (differing interests). These women felt that they should not have trusted the administration with the hiring process. In fact, many women were suspicious of bringing the initiative to the institutional level, but they lost out in the earlier discussions. One faculty member described this issue: “Several of us were worried that bringing attention to our efforts more broadly, it could actually compromise the work. We thought continuing the slower, smaller, personal approach was better. What is happening now suggests we were right.” There was also concern among administrators that the “women’s group has too much power and that they are empire building.” Recently a new president had been hired on campus, and the women’s group was very involved in this process. While campus administrators initially welcomed the bottom-up leadership to address a campus problem, they came to feel that the women faculty had taken on too much power and influenced the current hiring of the new president (power dynamics). Some administrators questioned whether one constituency should have so much power and worried that the women’s group was not open to listening to other perspectives on campus. One administrator, who played a translator role in the women’s group, explained the issue: I am really sympathetic to their goals. However, they are not being flexible enough. It is their way or the highway. We all make compromises. They expect us to, but not them. They have really created a power base, but I am not sure

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it is serving the institution best. I have tried to talk with them, but they do not hear me. (not negotiating)

As a result, administrators have restructured committees, removing members of the women’s group from some of these committees to decrease their power. The current academic senate president felt she was supportive of the women’s group, but because she worked with the administration and believed that they were trying hard to diversify the faculty and support students of color, many members of the women’s group viewed her with suspicion (too suspicious). She used to be part of the group, but, as people become associated with the administration, they appeared to have sold out, and the groups excluded them (sellouts). Campus constituents were mixed about whether combining the grassroots leadership with top-down leadership had resulted in success. For some faculty members, the sheer numbers of faculty of color, the new curriculum, the changes in faculty development, and greater consciousness within the administration were examples of success. For other members of the women’s group, their goals had been compromised by joining the top-down leadership; they wondered if they could have met these goals without working with the administration and by being separate— not watering down any of their objectives. They also worried about the impending backlash; if they had stayed underground, the committee restructuring and other negative activities may not have happened. Science Pedagogical Innovation at a Public Regional Institution The third example of convergence took place among a group of faculty in the sciences at a public regional institution wanting to innovate their pedagogical style to include more interdisciplinary, hands-on, and field-based approaches. A few of the faculty members went to a conference that highlighted the importance of rethinking the science pedagogy to increase the pipeline of students sponsored by an NSF grant. When they returned, they were excited and started talking to other colleagues about curriculum transformation, particularly their younger colleagues, who were open to thinking about new approaches to teaching and learning. Many of the assistant professors said that they came to campus hoping to teach in more innovative ways but discovered that this was not accepted or supported among their colleagues. They were excited that a few of the associate professors were beginning to support new views of teaching. The group began to meet informally and share ideas—mostly



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creating changes in their own courses but also thinking about ways they might restructure the science curriculum more broadly. A year after the faculty went to the conference, a new president3 came to the campus who had been a scientist and who was excited about innovations in the STEM disciplines. Within a few months, the president identified some of these innovators on campus and asked them what they needed to continue to work for change. Yet because the president had not been on campus very long and the junior faculty had just started brainstorming on the ideas for science reform, it may have been a bit early for major changes to occur (opportunity, but poor timing). The faculty suggested that they needed some resources, support from the president, and an examination of practices and policies that interfered with interdisciplinary work and hands-on curriculum. A faculty member reflected on this meeting with the president: To get the president’s attention on issues we cared about was great, especially given the challenge we were having with our colleagues. And then to be asked, “What do you need to succeed?” I am not sure I have ever been at a meeting like that. Soon after the meeting, changes started to occur on campuses. Deans were asked to look at barriers to interdisciplinary work, lots of mandates were coming down, and even funding. You started to hear interdisciplinary and experiential learning in the hallways.

Within the first six months of the president’s tenure, she established seed funds for faculty to create innovations in their courses and paid for this work as long as they presented the work to the campus, with the hope of getting other faculty on board. The president also started to highlight the work of these innovative science instructors in all of her speeches, providing the support that she felt would help them to be successful. The president created a campus speaker series around the importance of “science for all” and secured the deans of several schools to sponsor and support new thinking around the sciences. The faculty who had the original ideas were only peripherally involved in the speaker series, and slowly the president became the focus of the change effort (usurping grassroots effort). The increased resources and overt support from the president and some administrators were a concern among some faculty and administrators across campus, who were not convinced that a dramatically different approach to teaching science was necessary. Several of the junior faculty came under great scrutiny from their colleagues, and some uncivil behavior came to light, particularly when rumors were started about the “innovative” faculty members, trying to diminish their ­reputations. The

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resistant faculty organized dissent and showed up at the speaker series on collaborative and hands-on learning to present contrary evidence to the presented views (the value of lecture) (power). Opposing faculty wrote editorials for the campus paper and local newspapers suggesting that the president was irresponsibly providing money for unproven innovations. One faculty member reflected on the resistance: I am not sure anyone anticipated this—editorials in the community paper even. We thought they may not agree, but this kind of onslaught was a complete surprise to everyone. We went from excitement about new ways to teach science to wishing we could just go back to lecturing and be left alone.

A year later, many of the faculty had abandoned their innovative teaching strategies, fearing their activism would have a negative impact on their tenure or promotion. The faculty began to wonder whether support from the president—both how quickly it occurred and the amount that occurred—was actually good for their initiative. The president and other administrators who supported her found themselves in the position of lacking support from campus constituents, and they diminished their support for innovative teaching and learning. Both parties saw the process as unsuccessful. While there was no more resistance to this initiative than the diversity or environmental initiative, the way it unfolded suggests some lessons for future bottom-up and top-down changes. con v e rg e nc e a n d i ns t i t u t ion a l c h a ng e The experiences of these campuses suggest that convergence can result in at least three different outcomes toward institutional change. In the first example, combining grassroots and top-down change resulted in significant changes that bottom-up leaders felt they could not have accomplished without top-down support. Campus change agents had been working to create greater understanding about environmentalism for ten years, prior to gaining any support from the top. Perhaps one of the advantages of the long prelude to support from the top is that the faculty and staff across campus had developed an awareness about environmental issues, created a network of individuals interested in environmentalism, and garnered support among faculty. The disadvantage to the long prelude is that faculty and staff involved in the environmental change noted that there were times when they felt the movement was on its last limb. Institutional change may not have happened if top-down support had not been obtained at some point in time.



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On the community college campus, the women’s group had mixed results from joining grassroots and top-down leadership. Some women in the diversity movement felt they were successful in creating institutional change, moving from their smaller-scale lunchtime efforts to capitalizing on hiring and curriculum committees and making their faculty development efforts formal and available to others. However, an equally large number of women within the group believed that they sacrificed the integrity of their change process by joining their efforts with topdown leadership efforts. They perceived faculty hires, while diverse, not to be progressive—one of their major goals. Part of the women’s group believed that institutional change could happen only if the diversity initiative stayed with the grassroots group, to ensure that the change maintained its original goals and orientation. Institutional changes were considered compromised when the bottom-up and top-down worked together. They felt that change needed to occur slowly in pockets and that institutionalization does not require involvement or overlap with top-down leadership. In the third example of the science faculty at the public institution, grassroots change was compromised by too much top-down support that happened too quickly and too forcefully. Also, grassroots leaders assumed that support from those in authority necessarily translated into power and influence and did not consider other sources of power. Grassroots leaders are generally excited about the prospect of support from top-down leadership and envision this convergence as a way to create greater change. We found many intitatives where grassroots leaders did not approach convergence with caution or questioning and typically looked forward to the increased resources and visibility. However, grassroots leaders within other initiatives were more suspicious and, as shown with the environmental example, were successful. The president and grassroots leaders also ignored building relationships, particularly within the departments and schools, as professional norms suggest that cultivating collegiality will likely help in the convergence process. We did notice certain types of grassroots efforts had greater skepticism toward top-down leaders, including diversity efforts, staff equity, and other changes that involved intense power and politics. These members looked at the prospect of top-down leadership with a wary eye in terms of the way it could affect change efforts. These grassroots leaders were more likely to believe that flying under the radar, not drawing attention to the initiative, and making slow and deliberate changes were ultimately better for creating institutional change with bottom-up initiatives that involved changes in power. Also, the apolitical and naïve

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stance of some top-down leaders can lead grassroots efforts astray. The president in the science initiative did not think about how threatening her support of junior faculty might be to senior faculty and failed to realize the precarious situation she was putting the junior faculty into. We should also note that compromise is an essential underlying dynamic related to convergence. However, compromise is quite a complicated process when there are authority or power differentials. In more simplistic versions of shared leadership, compromise is seen as largely unproblematic. Reasonable people each make concessions for the greater good of the organization. However, what our study demonstrated is that compromise—while a nice ideal—is difficult because people within organizations often view these change initiatives from differing vantage points—even when they agree to the importance of the same change effort—be it diversity or environmentalism. There are often differences in the interests of administrators and faculty and staff (not all, but certainly many). This chapter and book have outlined the more academic capitalist and managerial ethic that drives the administration and the less corporate and managerial ethic that is part of the value system of faculty and staff. In more recent years, there has been an increasing divide between faculty and staff and the administration on many campuses that makes common ground and compromise more difficult. Certainly differing interests were one of the major reasons that compromise became quite difficult, but there were other reasons that convergence was problematic or did not occur as well—top-down leaders being intimidated by or unwelcoming to bottom-up efforts, grassroots leaders being suspicious of top-down leaders co-opting their effort, and so on. While we as authors believe in the importance of compromise, we also see from our research and the experience of grassroots leaders that this can be challenging because compromise might undermine the effort completely and turn it into a wholly different change effort. On the one hand, compromise is not really compromise but becomes about losing the integrity of a change effort. On the other hand, in an effort to maintain integrity in the change effort, grassroots leaders often missed important opportunities for compromise that could have furthered their efforts. Our research points to key actions that grassroots leaders might make to achieve compromise in an authentic way (for example, analyzing the timing, managing up) and areas for grassroots leaders to assess and see if authentic opportunities for compromise exist: Have they built the necessary relationships with the administration? Do they understand the interests of the administration? And so on. Perhaps there is more room for compromise if grassroots leaders are able to strategically manage this process better. These are delicate issues of trust, relation-



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ship building, and human dynamics that often do not lend themselves well to study or research. Often, the only way to know when compromise is the right decision is based on lengthy interactions with people, gut feelings, and intuition. The strategies and considerations described in this chapter lay the foundation for understanding when compromise might be achieved. conclusion As change agents from both the bottom and the top continue to struggle to make meaningful changes on campus, the insight in this chapter can been used to inform their work. The strength of this analysis and advice lies in understanding the complexities and varying outcomes of convergence between top-down and bottom-up leadership. In this chapter, we highlighted some of the strategies bottom-up leaders used to successfully merge with top-down leaders to institutionalize or gain support for the initiative, as well as to identify challenges of which bottom-up leaders need to be aware. We hope that this new way to think about leadership helps open up a new avenue for research and ways to think about practice. Can we, in higher education, genuinely embrace change from the bottom up, as well as believe that some top-down efforts can synergize with these efforts for the betterment of the whole? This may be a potent new path for research and practice. As noted in Chapter One, we do hope that a true shared leadership model can become a reality on college campuses, which would provide the greatest capacity for leadership, but in the meantime convergence from the bottom up may be an effective alternative.

chapter eleven

Leading in a Time of Corporatization The Impact of Institutional Structures and Culture

; In Chapter Four, we introduced you to several grassroots leaders who used entrepreneurial tactics, outside of the traditional structures of the academy (that is, shared governance) to create change. Kathleen, at a community college, worked with local business and community leaders to support her interest in environmental issues, to obtain large sources of funding for a building and an endowed faculty position, to establish a new sustainable building, and to create opportunities for student engagement in research and policy efforts. She successfully obtained the funding outside of institutional fundraising efforts and without administrative assistance. Kathleen also largely did this work on her own time and outside her role as a faculty member. Another example is Neeta, at a research university, who used her training and success as a grant writer and researcher in the sciences to fund her change initiatives. Neeta sought money from federal granting agencies to fund innovative curricular projects in the sciences that were aligned with her change efforts on the campus. Both Kathleen and Neeta recognized the academic capitalistic values of their institutions and engaged the values of those cultures to help move their initiatives forward. As a reminder from the first chapter, many changes are occurring in the academy and can largely be attributed to the phenomenon of academic capitalism—the engagement in marketlike behaviors on the part of faculty and universities related to the competition for resources in the form of grants, contracts, partnerships with industry, endowment funds, and spin-off companies (Slaughter & Leslie, 1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2005). The reach of academic capitalism within higher education is vast, changing the way the academy functions (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2005). Academic departments, such as biotechnology and



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medical science, are positioning themselves within business and industry to capitalize on funding and the development of patents. There is “little separation between science and commercial activity” (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2005, p. 29). In addition, academic administrators have been given increased oversight to engage in market behaviors. There has been a rise in patents and trademarks illustrating the larger role of higher education in the market (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2005). Administrators are also creating an atmosphere of academic capitalism through economic development offices and foundations. For faculty, the focus on marketlike behaviors has resulted in an increased demand for external research dollars, partnerships with business and industry, and an erosion of the focus on teaching and service work. Productivity standards for faculty are on the rise, with tenure and promotion often including the expectations for external research dollars. Moreover, the relative importance of teaching evaluations and portfolios in tenure and promotion has declined with increased emphasis on peer-review publication and research dollars (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). Teaching is often marginalized to the research and grant-making function, particularly in research universities, unless additional revenues can be generated through curriculum and pedagogical changes such as distance learning, credential programs, and corporate training. However, in community colleges and within degrees that have the potential for high enrollments and revenue generation such as business or education, teaching, training courses, and program development are being developed to increase campus revenues, and faculty are being encouraged and rewarded for creating such programs (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Other significant changes in the professoriate linked to academic capitalism are the rise in the number of contingent faculty and the lack of faculty participation and influence in campus governance. Part-time or contingent faculty and new faculty appointment structures that rely on renewable contacts are on the rise (Gappa, Austin, & Trice, 2007). Recent studies show that approximately a third of all faculty are tenured or tenure track, and non–tenure track make up two-thirds of the faculty (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). These non–tenure track faculty are often excluded from participation in governance where most faculty leadership occurs, which places increased service responsibility on tenured faculty, those individuals who have access to formal participation. Therefore, while the amount of time that a tenured faculty member must participate in governance has increased, the overall influence of faculty governance in institutional decision making is declining; tenure track faculty have less input in overall institutional governance, such as budgets and planning, and are being given less formal power and authority

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(see O’Meara et al., 2008, and Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006, for reviews of the decline in authority and governance). Rhoades (1998) observed that unilateral administrative decision making abounds and that faculty input has shrunk to a few specific areas, such as curricular development, and is not sought for university budgets, facilities, and employment policies, among others. Whereas faculty once enjoyed influence over many institutional matters, they are now subjugated to curricular decisions and governance structures that have more local (departmental) influence (Rhoades, 1998; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). While the amount of influence faculty have varies by institutional type, the decline is documented across all institutional types. Rhoades (1998) argues that the very nature of faculty work has changed and that faculty are now considered “managed professionals.” Faculty grassroots leadership may be one of the few ways they can exercise agency and play a role in campus affairs given their shrinking role in the formal decision-making process and leadership. Through academic capitalism, we can see how shifts in institutional culture can change the nature of leadership. While scholars speculate that academic capitalism has circumvented faculty leadership (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004), we found in our study that faculty were able to exercise their autonomy and agency by participating in marketlike behaviors (that is, writing grants to fund projects) to pursue their change efforts. Several studies note that faculty who participate in academic capitalist behaviors are not willing to give up the traditional values, norms, and ideals of academic work (Ylijoki, 2003). Faculty who regularly bring in large research grants, consult for corporations, create start-up companies, and do freelance work continue to value publishing their work in academic journals and value being teachers and mentors to students. Many faculty who partner regularly with external corporations believe that their partnerships help graduate students get hands-on experience and have a clear distinction between their roles as teachers and as consultants (Mendoza & Berger, 2008). There are two value sets that exist within the academy—one that is market oriented and the other tied to intellectual contributions and academic freedom. These grassroots leaders merged, in many cases, the capitalistic and traditional values of the university by establishing legitimacy through participating and appealing to the discourse of academic capitalism. By merging the two values, they were able to be effective grassroots leaders who created changes in the face of the systemic barriers reviewed in Chapter Six, such as rising publications standards. The reason these trends are so important is that we found that faculty who tried to operate in more traditional ways through avenues of



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shared governance such as faculty senates and committees were often part of inauthentic processes. While there have been no studies and no direct evidence, our conversations with grassroots leaders suggest that the managerial emphasis on campus results in administrators creating distracting and unauthentic processes rather than authentic shared governance. It appears that administrators on many campuses want to create the illusion that shared governance still exists even though it has declined on many campuses over the past twenty years. Faculty members who realize that traditional institutional processes of shared governance (be they senates, committees, or ad hoc groups) are usually not vehicles for real influence do not waste their valuable time. In a time of academic capitalism, time is at a premium. Those do not publish and get research funding or set up the training program that brings in additional students do not successfully survive in most environments. Participation in unauthentic committees is perilous and leads faculty to waste the time they could have spent creating change. Often faculty become cynical after being involved in a series of inauthentic committees and processes and abandon institutional leadership completely. Thus, these new pathways discovered by Carlos, Tori, Nicole, and Matthew, our other successful faculty and staff grassroots leaders, present an opportunity to make faculty leadership flourish in this new and difficult era. We emphasize how they operate within a local sphere of influence; meet productivity standards; obtain grants to create agency, resources, and freedom; and adopt and subvert market language and logic. l e a di ng w i t h i n ac a de m ic c a pi ta l ism : ­d iscou r se a n d l ogic a dop t e d by g r a ssroo t s l e a de r s We identified seven themes that relate to ways bottom-up leaders intentionally modified their approach to fit into the academic capitalist norms on their campuses. We refer to these various approaches as forms of logic or discourses as they reflect the academic capitalist logic documented by Slaughter and Rhoades (2004), but the faculty and staff members in our study use them in very different ways. The various logics and discourses are: • • • •

Seeking external funding Becoming a faculty star Timing and aligning efforts with the administration Appealing to a desire for institutional prestige

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• Emphasizing market values and revenue generation • Documenting tangible results and emphasizing productivity • Being aware of the discourse of cost cutting and the use of partnerships In the following narratives, we highlight each of these themes and show how various faculty and staff used these discourses or forms of logic from academic capitalism to gain the autonomy and agency to engage in change efforts. The faculty and staff in our study were acutely aware of the culture of productivity and the values of academic capitalism, particularly the value placed on external funding. They used tactics that were aligned with revenue generation and marketlike behaviors and appealed to a desire for institutional prestige. Often, the faculty and staff grassroots leaders did so to maintain their values and push for change. Also, while academic capitalism was most prevalent at the research university and in those disciplines that are more driven by grants and patents, we found faculty and staff at each campus who modified their approach to leadership to be successful. Before describing the narratives, we provide some detail about each of the seven themes. First and foremost, faculty and staff grassroots leaders across all institutional types sought out external funding, often in the form of grants, to establish credibility and legitimacy in the organization before pursuing grassroots activities. Faculty and staff in this study are acutely aware of the decline in state and federal revenues and the value placed on external funding by campus administrators, and so they used grant seeking to establish credibility. Their credibility shields them from criticism and backlash for participation in change efforts and allows them more autonomy to pursue initiatives that may be against the status quo. Other faculty used their grant-seeking skills and their contacts within granting agencies to secure grants to directly fund their change initiatives. For example, several faculty applied for dissemination or diffusion grants within the federal agencies to establish special programs for specific student groups. The funds allowed the faculty to push for change while appealing to the academic capitalistic value of external funding. Second, credibility was also granted through productivity in publishing and to those faculty stars who take on more public roles (that is, who appear as experts in the media or lead academic associations). Particularly for social science and humanities faculty who do not have access to the large research grants seen in the sciences, faculty members who produced influential scholarship within their disciplines capitalized on the respect and autonomy given when they were productive in publishing to move forward change. In addition, winning awards for influential books



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or articles, getting a MacArthur grant, being visible on international advisory boards, speaking as an expert in the media, regularly appearing in top-tier journals, and having a steady publication record afforded faculty influence and respect that shielded them from backlash. Third, faculty and staff grassroots leaders were keenly aware of the changes in power and decision making within the academy and timed their efforts to capitalize on the priorities of the administration. Faculty and staff grassroots leaders were aware of the increase in power afforded to campus administration and understood that they needed to engage the campus administration, appealing to capitalistic priorities and values. Faculty and staff partnered with campus administration and carefully timed their efforts to appear aligned with the priorities of the administration. Grassroots leaders observed that administrative priorities rotate over time. Administration may have an interest in diversity for a few years only to move to globalization, for example. Over time, diversity will rotate back into focus and create an opportunity to push for change on diversity issues. This often left faculty and staff leaders waiting years before they could push for change. Another way that grassroots leaders have timed their efforts is to wait patiently for a turnover in leadership. When the grassroots leaders’ initiative does not have support in the administration, waiting for campus administration to turn over provides a potential opportunity to find support. Timing their partnerships to appeal to top-down management helped to respect lines of authority and be more successful in a capitalistic environment. Faculty and staff also worked in their disciplines, units, or social networks to develop ideas before going to the campus administration. That way, they could time their partnerships with administration and strategically develop the message before approaching the administration. Fourth, faculty and staff grassroots leaders appealed to the desire for institutional prestige among campus administrators. Many of the faculty and staff grassroots leaders saw a desire on the behalf of campus administrators to create a brand that distinguished their institutions from competitors. If campuses can become distinctly successful at a particular program, research innovation, or curriculum, they can brand those innovations. The prestige awarded through brand identification will lead to greater recognition and fund-raising opportunities. Faculty and staff leaders promoted their efforts, such as the development of an honors program, as marketing opportunities that would create a distinctive and successful program to market to the community and increase their status in national rankings, such as those published by U.S. News & World Report.

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Fifth, staff and faculty recognized that they could further their efforts more if they emphasized market values and the revenue-generation possibilities of their change effort. While this strategy must be executed carefully so as to not compromise the effort, many grassroots leaders noted that sustainability efforts can save campuses money or that diversity, new pedagogies, and international and interdisciplinary efforts can be used to make the campus more attractive for marketing purposes. Staff and faculty have become aware of the market and commodification language prevalent among the administration and have begun to use it to further efforts that are important to them. They can use this language to appeal for needed human and financial resources so change efforts do not become too fragile and dissipate. In some cases, revenue generation would help to sustain the efforts; in others, the efforts had potential to bring in revenue through prestige and innovation. Sixth, grassroots faculty and staff leaders understood a need to produce tangible results that demonstrate productivity. Change initiatives that produced, as opposed to promised, tangible results in the form of revenue generation, more research publications, and potential for external funding were viewed positively by campus administration. The tangible results proved the viability of the initiatives to increase faculty and staff productivity now and in the future. Faculty and staff grassroots leaders kept records, collected data, and were quick to promote the results of their work and show how it had produced results. For example, faculty would document the number of publications and the additional funding that came from their work. Staff and faculty also documented the impact on student retention as tangible positive results from their efforts. The tangible results legitimized the work and helped to reinforce the potential for revenue generation and market value in the future. Seventh, faculty and staff grassroots leaders were acutely aware of the discourse of cost cutting and partnerships on their campuses. They found that when engaged in collaborations within and across departments their efforts were viewed more positively by campus administration as a potential way to cut costs. They also found ways to use the discourse of academic capitalism to showcase the value of the collaborations. For example, one faculty member created new laboratories that were also used as classrooms. These spaces decreased cost by having a versatile space with equipment that could be used throughout the day. Another value of the collaborations and partnerships is the potential for increased productivity in research grants and publication. Several faculty were able to leverage the partnerships to write grants and increase their publication record by sharing the workload of these activities.



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To illustrate these seven themes about how grassroots leaders use the logic of academic capitalism but subverted for their purposes, four narratives are presented—those of three faculty and one staff member. Each person represents a different institutional type (a regional college, a comprehensive college, a liberal arts college, and a research university) and initiatives (environmentalism, curriculum reform, and diversity and tenure versus non–tenure track) demonstrating that this approach is relevant among different groups of faculty and staff, across institutions and academic disciplines and units. There were slight variations across institutional types. Those faculty at research universities were more apt to recognize and engage in tactics that appealed to grant productivity and status as faculty stars. Those faculty and staff at the comprehensive and community college played up the revenue potential more. Also, staff and non–tenure track faculty were more likely to work in groups and develop partnerships to leverage collective power. While these are not the only entrepreneurial grassroots leaders that we found in our study, these four represent a comprehensive approach to grassroots activities that accounts for many of the entrepreneurial practices that are required in the corporate academy. All the faculty and staff recognized the culture of academic capitalism and sought external funding as the main tactic for establishing credibility and change. Beyond the grant seeking, some faculty and staff were more intentional about establishing credibility as faculty stars, establishing the market potential of their initiative, and developing partnerships. These four narratives were chosen to represent the various tactics derived from a belief in the culture of academic capitalism. No one person used all the various forms of logic; rather, they used a set to ensure their success. Carlos: Professor at a Research University The first narrative illustrates the phenomenon of faculty grassroots leadership as related to faculty work in a research university and illustrates the importance of grant seeking, credibility of being a faculty star, and working locally. Carlos, a person of color, was a professor at a private research university in a large urban area who had worked for the last decade to provide access to doctoral education for students of color. His efforts with students demonstrated his efforts to subvert his status as a managed professional. He had held several administrative positions, including director of an American studies program and as a director of several initiatives related to student access. The primary grassroots initiative that Carlos had engaged in was a fellowship program that

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­ rovided scholarships, programming, mentorship, and support for gradp uate students of color across the discipline. He requested and obtained funds from a major foundation to support this vision he had for the fellowships. As an externally funded program (external funding) with additional support from the university, this program had been highly successful and was touted as responsible for the success of many graduate students of color. In Carlos’s words the program was about creating funding for graduate students that we were going to admit into the new PhD program but, at the very same time, improving a variety of disciplinary—the experiences of minority students in a variety of disciplinary PhD programs. That was also kind of fundamental in how transformation would occur. It couldn’t be done just in isolation in one program.

The commitment that Carlos expressed in this statement was related to change at the local level (with individual graduate students) and at the institutional level (transforming how the university views issues related to diversity). Carlos’s activities were influenced by his critical perspective of history departments and his beliefs about creating change in universities through the creation of communities. However, his success was influenced by his ability to leverage his productivity in seeking external funds and in being a faculty star to influence members of the university— another illustration of academic capitalism. Finding external money legitimized his grassroots activities and called attention to the significance of his efforts. For Carlos, the access program was funded by an external foundation that asked for institutional support. The foundation provided the excuse necessary to get internal buy-in and additional money to support graduate students of color. In addition, Carlos was a highly respected scholar—a faculty star—who came to the institution with tenure and with legitimacy in his academic field. He was pedigreed with a respected degree, was well published, had held national leadership roles in his discipline, and spoke nationally. Carlos explained, You know, my [job] has never been jeopardized, partly because I’ve always taken care of the basics, which mean faculty are protected by virtue of their scholarship. It was hard to say no to a Stanford PhD. It’s hard to say no to an Oxford book. It’s hard to say no to the president of a disciplinary society. I mean, all those things are things that I have accomplished, that are things that protect me in the local community.

Productivity and external grants are all valued in a culture of academic capitalism. To be successful grants faculty certain powers and privileges to push forward change efforts that may be contrary to the university



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culture. Carlos had actively capitalized on his success to promote the success of graduate students of color on campus. Carlos’s narrative represents the impact of disciplinary paradigms on the activities of grassroots leaders. As a faculty member who had an interdisciplinary focus—history and American studies—Carlos framed his grassroots activities as a process of organizational change that began by building local communities to influence the beliefs of others. He timed his efforts working within his discipline before attempting to engage other units and campus administration. That way, he could create support and social networks and strategize the appropriate time to diffuse his efforts and appeal to the campus administration. Local work helped grassroots leaders to plan, organize, and strategize the ways to appeal to the discourse of academic capitalism. He created communities of graduate students by engaging in workshops and mentoring programs to form support networks and socialize students into academe. Participating in these activities was a direct result of his belief that disciplinary biases may limit the success of graduate students of color. Furthermore, his status as a research faculty in a research-oriented university illustrates the ways in which the academic discipline can have a stronger or weaker impact on grassroots activities. Carlos was highly connected to his disciplines that, therefore, have a stronger influence on his activities and commitments as a grassroots leader. Finally, the university, as a research university, placed increased emphasis on grant seeking, publishing, and national reputation as a faculty star, which Carlos has been able to capitalize on to successfully push forward initiatives to assist students of color. As Carlos stated, it is difficult to say no to a faculty member who has achieved national credibility. At the research university in our study, external funding and being a faculty star were paramount for success. Matthew: Professor at Technical College Matthew was a professor of engineering at Almost Untempered Polytechnical Institute. His narrative illustrates the tactics of partnerships, tangible results, grant seeking, cost cutting, and appealing to discourses of market value within the university. He had been focused on creating learning communities and enhancing the student learning environment through new facilities. He received his master’s degree from a prestigious university and worked for many years in the aerospace industry, a highly profitable and capitalistic industry, until he “got bored” and returned to college for a PhD in physics. Matthew spent several years abroad in a postdoctoral position before returning to the United States and landing a faculty position at Technical College, incidentally the same institution

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where he received his bachelor’s degree. When Matthew began teaching, he had a keen interest in students’ learning, which was one of the reasons that he left industry, but he felt as if he needed more guidance. He stated: I was simply aware that I am a physical scientist and engineer; I am not a social scientist. So, there were a lot of things about students and the student–teacher interaction, and educational organizations and how people’s brains work that I don’t understand. So I had a lot of questions.

Matthew created a learning community (partnerships) with faculty from across the campus that focused on methods for teaching with new technologies, such as clickers. The partnership developed in the learning community helped to examine and frame the needs of faculty and create a network to seek external funding. This group, primarily consisting of faculty from engineering and the college of science, saw a shared need resulting from a “perceived widespread challenge to faculty scholarship that is in science and engineering.” They found that the expectations for faculty productivity were increasing to become more similar to those in research universities, particularly in publishing and grant writing (a symptom of academic capitalism). Yet institutional funding to support the costly equipment was nonexistent. Matthew explained, “When I came here I brought equipment and got $0. College of Science is a little better, but start-up funds are certainly on the order of 10 percent what they would be in a research university.” The group began to share resources (cost cutting and partnerships), both fiscal and human, to create scientific computation facilities—more so than any one group could create. They networked across campus and received money from the dean of science and the chemistry department. Publications, grants, and publicity resulted from the facilities, and as of the time of our interview, they had a large grant (external funding) from a foundation. The venture proved profitable for the college. Matthew and his colleagues understood the importance of tangible results and emphasizing the market value of his efforts. He stated: You need to show that it leads to improved curriculum. And you need to show that it has other kinds of tangible results that teaching colleagues will respect. Some of them are faculty recruitment and retention. Recruitment and retention of good students.

In addition, the facilities have a dual purpose; they operate as a research laboratory for faculty and a teaching facility for students and help control costly duplication of facilities and services. The laboratory appeals to the cost cutting discourse of academic capitalism. A space can



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serve as a classroom and research facility to produce an education for undergraduate and graduate students and research products for faculty. Matthew and his colleagues have published many academic journal articles from the work done in the laboratory that may lead to additional grant dollars and more prestige for the university. This dual use and the publication of subsequent results (that is, publications and grants dollars) had supported the culture of academic capitalism—a culture of assessment, productivity, and partnerships to cut costs and raise revenues. Matthew’s discipline created many opportunities for grant seeking from outside federal agencies and foundations. Nicole: Faculty Administrator at a Comprehensive College The third narrative is of Nicole, an English faculty member, at Innovative Regional; it illustrates the themes of partnerships, an appeal to notions of prestige, and revenue generation to push for the development of a poetry conference focused on change. Nicole came to Innovative Regional several decades ago as part of a dual hire; her husband was an accounting professor. On arrival, she was invited to become the director of the university honors program, a small selective undergraduate program located in the humanities division of the university. Nicole understood that to push for change in an area that she was passionate about (change through art and poetry), she needed to create a thriving honors program that provided student scholarships and became prestigious in the opinions of university administrators. She immediately developed partnerships internal to the university and with the surrounding community to create an advisory board and solicit fund raising (external funding) for student scholarships. The reputations of the individuals on the advisory board helped to legitimize the honors program and create buy-in from individuals across the campus and community who may have had funds for student scholarships. Advisory board members provided many of the fifty student scholarships. Nicole’s most ambitious entrepreneurial activity was the development of a poetry conference. Her success in the honors program, the external funding from members of the advisory board and individuals in the community, and prestige gave her the autonomy to eventually work on the poetry conference full time. A successful honors program that offered scholarships, was ethnically and racially diverse, and had high student retention rates gave the college a visible and successful program to market, thereby providing prestige for the university. The first ­poetry

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conference began with a single conversation with a Pulitzer Prize poet and a group of students. She organized from the ground up two largescale poetry conferences that brought together over sixty writers and poets and more than 2,500 audience members to this rural area of the United States. The first conference hosted approximately thirty-five poets and critics with over 1,300 attendees, doubling the numbers in a second conference ten years later. As she explained, “It [the conference] is really a national movement.” Nicole used similar tactics to those used in the honors program by seeking different avenues for external funding and constantly communicating the impact of her initiatives to the campus and surrounding community. She explained, “I had a lot of the people coming the conference who were my friends, and many poets and critics are my friends, and we got scholarships, and we were asking for donations of two and three hundred dollars, so having relationships helps.” Among the three areas that she felt helped her be successful, she mentioned “giving people the opportunity to give money.” Nicole involved people in the honors college and the conference, providing opportunities for involvement through volunteering and giving money for a specific cause, such as a student scholarship to attend the conference. The conference has become a spotlight in the poetry field and a largescale example of grassroots efforts that gave the university a positive reputation for supporting the arts. Marketing the conference and branding the institution as supportive of the arts granted prestige. Each conference was taped, and Nicole organized for several filmmakers to create a documentary. She also had several edited poetry books from conference participants and a calendar from artists who also attended the conference. The books, calendar, and documentary were all sold for a profit to support subsequent conferences and her staff. Nicole made sure that the campus administration were aware of the revenue generated for the poetry conference and used those funds to create support positions for future conferences. Nicole’s understanding of the need for funding through revenue generation, developing partnerships, and connecting her work with university prestige helped her succeed and illustrates her acknowledgment of academic capitalism. Nicole’s approach also reflected her field, English, which has fewer opportunities for grants than do the sciences. She used partnerships and sources of revenue generation from her conference rather than seeking grants through federal agencies and foundations. This type of funding has proved successful in comprehensive colleges. Other narratives of individuals in research universities illustrate the important of federal and foundation funding.



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Tori: Staff Member at a Liberal Arts College Tori had been a staff activist at the liberal arts college for over twentyfive years and had worked on gender issues, LGBT, multiculturalism, staff rights, and community partnerships. Tori has been a long-time feminist, drawn to issues related to social justice. She began as an entrylevel staff member in student affairs and worked her way up to a lowlevel administrative position. Her narrative illustrates how staff traverse academic capitalism though external grants, timed efforts, revenue generations, partnerships, and revenue generation. When she began working on gender issues on campus, which was the first work she focused on, she felt that the approach was different: “We used to slowly point out problems to the higher-ups. Later, after the seed had sunk in, they might ask us for ideas. You worked more through the system. It was still bottom up and slow.” But over time Tori explained how the campus changed, and so did her approach to grassroots leadership as a staff person: “About ten years ago, I noticed that there was more scrutiny of every idea—‘How much will this cost?’ Yes, this may be the right thing to do, but it is just not a priority.” She was having less luck working to create campus community partnerships than in other earlier efforts. They even had more internal support with a strong cross-campus coalition. She noted how they shifted their approach to be successful: “In one of our informal meetings, some one said, ‘What about if we go out and get money to support the effort?’ It seems like more and more things are started now with external funds, and then it gets support.” Her group submitted and obtained grant funding to support a high school and university partnership. Several local groups took interest in their work (partnerships). Tori also noted how receiving the money not only supported their effort but raised their legitimacy: “People know I work for change, but I think many of the new administrators thought of me as a troublemaker or—I am not sure. But after the grant, I had more credibility. Many of the toplevel administrators did not remember my name when I walked across campus, but now they do.” In addition to obtaining external funds, staff also see that if a change can generate revenue, then they could pursue it. The campus wanted to start a leadership program that stressed social justice. The grassroots leaders were able to make the argument that the program would attract more students and increase campus enrollments. They found another campus that had started a similar leadership program and had improved their image. Through “selling” the merits of the new program and the

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revenue it could generate, they were able to create the change they had hoped for. Yet their argument had to be a market-based and consumer argument, not a moral argument about the value of a leadership program stressing social justice. Tori and her colleagues became savvy with this language: “We now understand what language we can use to make a change attractive and to move forward. You never did this fifteen years ago.” Tori also described how they worked less in partnership with the administration than in the past and were more an incubator for ideas and that they would problem solve more on their own: Some of us are meeting now to talk about staff rights; there are problems again with the custodial staff. We might have been more likely to meet with administrators to kick around ideas in the past, but now we tend to meet at the division level and work out issues.

Tori noted that decisions had become more centralized and that administrators were more likely to feel as if staff were usurping power or authority if they came to discuss an issue that administrators did not delegate to them specifically. The bottom-up leaders have to wait for key opportunities to partner (timed efforts) so that they do not experience backlash in a time of greater top-down management and concern about following the lines of authority. She noted that as a feminist she found this ironic: “Everyone talks about how organizations are more team based and collaborative these days. The academy is supposed to be so consensus oriented, but I just do not see that. Things are very top-down, more so than in the past when it was supposed to be so authoritative.” She noted that local leaders can be more collaborative but that the overall campus culture seemed more top down than in the past. conclusion Much of the research on academic capitalism implies that faculty and staff have agency to participate in entrepreneurship only on administrators’ terms and do so for self-promotion. This study illustrates that some faculty and staff may have alternative reasons for engaging in academic capitalism and that these reasons allow them to play a leadership role and further grassroots agendas. Faculty and staff may find it difficult to become equal partners in decision making around budgetary issues, facilities, and fund-raising, but we should not assume that faculty and staff are increasingly powerless as campus leaders and cannot find creative ways to further their change in the face of less authority and



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involvement. A recent book by O’Meara and coauthors (2008) argues for a new vision of professionalism that focuses on the ways in which faculty use agency to advocate for groups and engage in change. Some grassroots faculty and staff leaders in our study found ways to overcome the decline of faculty authority and autonomy to create change around initiatives that they were passionate about and did so by staying true to the values that brought them to higher education—intellectual innovation, mentoring, and teaching and learning. These stories serve as lessons for grassroots leaders about ways to subvert the academic capitalist environment to further the interests of faculty and staff grassroots leaders. Again, while this was not prevalent, and many faculty and staff grassroots leaders did not adopt this approach, it was found among a subset of grassroots leaders across all the campuses we studied.

chapter twelve

Encouraging and Supporting Faculty and Staff Grassroots Leadership

; In Chapter Four, we introduced you to Kevin, a professor of Asian studies at a community college. In our conversations with Kevin, he often described how the support of his department chair had been instrumental to him developing a student leadership program that had become well known throughout the region and nation. He commented that seemingly small support structures had been instrumental in encouraging his work. Sometimes it was a course release or less committee work in a semester; other times it was a positive comment or suggestion for how to better execute his work. Often the support was just letting him be on his own to be successful without the interference of others. We also introduced Mike, a staff member at a research university, who worked to help create additional support for student athletes. Mike spoke in great detail about his feelings of empowerment to find new and creative ways to support and mentor student athletes and an openness to discuss new ideas in the department. Much of this support came from his supervisor, who often helped Mike communicate his ideas to those with authority to implement the changes. These small but important gestures by other faculty, department chairs, supervisors, and administrators can support and encourage grassroots leadership on campus. In this chapter, we focus on many different forms of support that we identified in our study. In particular, we are focusing on support by those in positions of authority (presidents, provosts, deans, department chairs) because in earlier chapters we described the way grassroots faculty and staff often support each other through coalition building and networks, for example. Here we are interested in the roles that others, outside the grassroots effort and, in particular, individuals in positions of authority can play in furthering grassroots leadership. As earlier chap-



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ters have noted, however, there is a delicate balance between supporting grassroots leadership and usurping the effort. This chapter provides advice for those interested in supporting faculty and staff grassroots leaders in ways that respect the leaders’ efforts and investment. Across the various campuses, we identified certain practices, policies, and aspects of institutional culture that helped support bottom-up leadership. We have highlighted the ways that mentoring programs, maintaining autonomy and flexibility in workload, creating a culture that sees questioning as healthy, setting up campus networks and teams, hiring new people in key areas, and other approaches can help to support grassroots leadership on campuses. Some strategies were more formal and sanctioned by the institution (creating campus networks), and others were informal practices (role modeling). It is important to note that support for grassroots leadership was not a single practice, policy, or set of values. Instead, it was a combination of practices, polices, and values that made a difference and perhaps could be conceptualized as creating a new environment or culture on campus. While campuses typically did not have all these policies, practices, and values in place, grassroots leaders noted that successful campuses have a combination that touches on policy and practice at both the departmental and campuswide levels. Changing policies in a department with no attention to broader institutional values would likely not be as successful, for example. These practices and policies can be organized into two levels: departmental or school or unit versus campuswide approaches. Departments, schools, or unit and campuswide agents can provide different types of support that relate to the authority given to that level in the institutional hierarchy. For example, individuals within the central administration were the only people capable of creating a climate where questioning was seen as healthy. One tactic appeared to transcend levels and worked across all campus institutional agents—mentoring and role models— and is reviewed last. Although the term culture and the idea of development of a culture tend to be overused, the collective set of policies, practices, and values on these five campuses described could be characterized as creating a culture conducive to grassroots leadership. In combination, these various approaches might be used to rebuild (as shared governance dissipates) or create a culture supportive of grassroots leadership. Some campuses might do a good job of focusing on departmental strategies but might miss campuswide approaches needed to assist grassroots leaders. Therefore, we organized the results to make it apparent that both

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­ epartment or unit and campuswide polices, practices, and values need d to be addressed to build a supportive culture for grassroots leadership. Furthermore, it is important to use a variety of strategies to address the different problems that plague a campus. While we do not have data that can empirically identify whether using these strategies in combination will create more grassroots leadership, our discussions with faculty and staff suggest this would be the case. Creating a culture supportive of grassroots leadership requires using various vehicles, including role modeling, mentoring, and some involvement from faculty and professional development centers (to create campus networks, for example), but it also involves a more comprehensive set of changes to campus policies and practices, that is, addressing politics and dysfunction, greater flexibility with roles, and workload. Grassroots leaders described the importance of certain policies or actions to create an environment that would acknowledge and facilitate their work as grassroots leaders. Faculty and staff mentioned key individuals who helped them to overcome hurdles and changed their work conditions, flexibility and autonomy in the way that roles are defined, policies to include non–tenure track faculty in governance and leadership, and administrators and senior faculty who addressed dysfunctional department dynamics. Grassroots leaders in our study were very aware of both systematic barriers to their leadership as well as ways that campuses can overcome some of these hurdles. While most of the mechanisms we describe support both faculty and staff grassroots leadership, faculty noted a preference for a professional or guild approach. The idea that grassroots leadership is developed through professional involvement—the guild experience—and reflects professional ideals cut across the data. Working with supportive individuals and mentors, identifying role models, working with colleagues in the department, joining a campus network, and attending a professional conference are expressions of ways to learn informally through and with colleagues. In addition, these are all values that are part of a professional ethic. For the most part, faculty do not describe an interest in leadership development courses, leadership training, and the like. While these guild practices are informal, that does not mean that they cannot be institutionally supported through intentional role modeling, mentoring, and networking. Intentionally designed mentoring and networking opportunities shaped the faculty in the study, and these are important to replicate more broadly. Staff, however, noted the importance of professional development to establish their leadership and to network with colleagues across their campus and at other universities.



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As participation in shared governance and decision making becomes more centralized, and more barriers prevent faculty and staff from playing a role in leadership (grassroots or traditional), understanding how faculty and staff perceive the ways institutions can support their leadership is an important insight to glean. Certainly, a systemic way to address this problem is to return to strong models of shared governance for faculty, to reverse the trend of hiring non–tenure track faculty, and to rebalance and rethink workloads. For staff, similar methods are required that address the position of staff in the institutional hierarchy. Staff need to be more involved in decision making, and staff senates or unions need more authority and respect. While campuses should consider those issues, we also recognize that many campuses may not reverse these trends and that, in the face of the formidable barriers, creative solutions are needed to support faculty and staff grassroots leadership. As noted in the chapter on obstacles, faculty and staff face a series of barriers to leadership that are increasingly making grassroots leadership difficult. In this chapter, we highlight how these various approaches to fostering grassroots leadership address some of the challenges highlighted in Chapter Six, such as the rising standards for tenure and promotion, the increase in contingent and part-time faculty, and the lack of authority granted staff. Table 12.1 provides a summary of the policies, practices, and values and a sampling of the barriers these polices, practices, and values help to overcome. As noted in the table and the following text, faculty (particularly tenure track) face more institutional barriers than can be directly addressed through the mechanism described in this chapter. While staff (and contingent faculty) also face institutional barriers, the obstacles they face relate more to power conditions described earlier and are not as readily addressed by strategies in this chapter. We did not identify any significant institutional differences in which approaches are important for facilitating grassroots leadership. However, the issues of flexibility and autonomy for faculty role and workload were not mentioned at the research university. This is likely because these faculty tend to have the most autonomy and lighter workloads (in terms of teaching and service) than at other institutions. With that one exception noted, the approaches described in this chapter were noted at each campus. We can identify, though, that different campuses have distinctive barriers for faculty and staff and that these varying barriers may require a different combination of policy and practices to facilitate more grassroots leadership.

ta ble 12.1 Policies, practices, and values that support faculty and staff grassroots ­leadership and barriers that they address. Policy, practice, or value

Sample barrier addressed

Department or school level Supportive individuals Faculty barriers:   Rising publications   Expansion of faculty role   Fear of speaking up before tenure and promotion Staff barriers:   Resources   Academic and student affairs differentiation   Emotional toll Autonomy and flexibility Faculty barriers: in role   Rising publications standards   Rise of contingent faculty   Expanded role of faculty Staff barriers:   High turnover   Institutional culture of status quo Supporting faculty to go to Faculty barriers: conferences   Rising publications standards   Institutional culture of status quo Staff barriers:   Institutional culture of status quo   Academic and student affairs differentiation Campuswide Collegiality and campus Faculty barriers: networks   Rising publications standards   Academic capitalism   Fear of speaking up before tenure and promotion Staff barrier:   Academic and student affairs differentiation Policies for contingent faculty Faculty barrier:   Rise of contingent faculty Staff barrier:   Lack of access to shared governance Dysfunctional department Faculty barriers: dynamics   Fear of speaking up before tenure and promotion   Rising publications standards   Expansion of faculty role Staff barriers:   Institutional culture of status quo   Interpersonal dynamics Whether campuses see Faculty barrier: questioning as healthy or   Fear of speaking up before tenure and promotion unhealthy Staff barrier:   Institutional culture of status quo Multilevel Mentors and role models Faculty barriers:  Socialization as a faculty member—lacking ­leadership skills   Expanded role of faculty Staff barrier:   Works across various barriers



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de pa rt m e n ta l a n d u n i t or sc hoolw i de ­a pp roac h e s In this section, we describe the approaches that department chairs, faculty, deans, administrators, and supervisors can use to support faculty and staff grassroots leaders. Interviewees noted departmental methods most often; faculty felt that they could receive the most support from their departmental colleagues. Staff often referred to supervisors and directors as being highly influential in their involvement in change efforts. Similar to faculty, their local department or unit supervisors were most influential. Grassroots leaders noted how these individuals helped them explore their leadership visions and assisted them in brainstorming ways to overcome obstacles, as well as providing specific support, defining roles flexibly, and providing funding and support to go to conferences to obtain the skills and knowledge necessary to make their leadership visions come to life. We begin each section with faculty and then transition to staff examples. Supportive Individuals Who Remove Obstacles Almost every successful faculty leader mentioned a supportive department chair or faculty member (often senior) who had worked with him or her to understand that faculty member’s scholarly interests and leadership potential and shaped his or her leadership vision. These supporters met with faculty on an annual basis to help them think about and plan their future, but they also met informally from time to time to check in and offer support and help brainstorm plans. Helping shape a vision was not the primary role of the supporters; rather, they needed to change work conditions to support faculty leadership (overcome an obstacle, change or modify their role, influence those in positions of authority related to workload, and the like). Grassroots leaders noted these were more than mentors: While it is nice to have someone to share your ideas, what holds most of us back is not being able to pursue our dreams because we lack the leadership skills or face obstacles. Having people who help remove these obstacles by giving a course release is what is needed most.

Department chairs and other supporters can use a host of practices to help faculty in playing a leadership role, such as legitimizing activities through public acknowledgment, providing resources (course releases or credit for service), and acting as institutional advocates. Another faculty member at the research university described how public ­acknowledgment

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helped her pursue her goal of creating a campus sustainability plan: “A senior faculty member in my department kept standing up at meetings and saying how the work I was doing was scholarship and informed my research. His support legitimized my efforts and made me feel I could do this work pretenure.” Many pretenure faculty talked about the importance of a supportive individual to help them navigate the pretenure status with less fear. One faculty member at the liberal arts campus described the important role that department chairs can play: I probably never would have followed through with my idea to improve recruitment and retention of students in color if my department chair had not been so excited about the idea and offered real help. I had the interest, but I just was not sure if it was a good idea or how to do it. He helped me get in touch with the right people in admissions and the alumni office, and he talked about how this would count as my institutional service for the year.

This finding is supported by other research on the role of department chairs and how significantly chairs can contribute to institutional change (Lucas, 2000; Walvoord et al., 2001). But most faculty noted that a supportive department chair is less common because department chairs are often overwhelmed with bureaucracy, are untrained for the role, are apathetically waiting out their two- to three-year rotation, lack sensitivity, or have forgotten the experience of being an early-career faculty member. Thus, faculty recommended also looking to other support figures (associate deans, senior faculty) if the department chair is unable or chooses not to play this role. In sum, supportive individuals can help develop leadership skills, as well as overcome a variety of obstacles. While faculty relied heavily on department chairs for support, staff relied on supervisors, including associate deans and directors, to name a few. The supervisors assisted by either allowing staff to conduct their change work during their normal work hours, providing emotional and/ or financial support, or leveraging political connections and authority to move an initiative forward. One grassroots leader, Debbie, who worked in the police department, created a Pride Center for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered students. The center began with little to no start-up money and much resistance from the campus administration and other cultural centers. Her supervisor, the chief in the police department, supported Debbie emotionally, provided resources, and allowed her to conduct work for the Pride Center during her work hours in the police department. Debbie explained: My supervisor was always there for me, even when I was out doing work that people felt was controversial, not mainstream. That is when support is impor-



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tant, when others are walking away from you. And it was not just emotional support, but resources. The resources said to me, “I do not just support you in word, but in deed.” So I got space, even if it was small, and supplies, and the basics that I just did not have without his support.

Another student affairs professional discussed how a director helped create a connection to a staff member in academic affairs. This grassroots leader had been struggling to connect her new cocurricular program focused on social justice to the academic units: I did not even work with (the director). But I saw him in a lunch line, and he asked what was going on. I had just come back from a meeting about the new social justice program we had gotten off the ground. I was pretty bubbly. Maybe my excitement was contagious. But I also explained how no one in X department (academic affairs) would call me back. I tried many different people. A few weeks later, I got an e-mail virtual introduction to someone there he had already spoken with. Bang, that opened doors.

Influential supervisors helped obtain needed resources, would network for staff, and used public engagements to mention the initiative. These are just a few examples of the way that supportive individuals can make a difference by alleviating key hurdles that prevent an effort from moving forward. Providing Autonomy and Flexibility for Workload and Role Faculty leadership is unlikely to occur on campuses where faculty roles are tightly prescribed and where little freedom exists. While this might be more typical in a unionized environment, we did find unionized campuses that had autonomy and flexibility that allowed faculty leadership to flourish. On campuses where faculty are expected to serve on a certain number of committees, bring in a certain number of grants, teach a heavy load of courses, or participate in specific meetings and obligations, faculty’s ability to pursue leadership in an area they cared about was limited. Flexibility, on the other hand, allowed them to manage the rising expectation and expanded role while still playing a leadership role. One community college faculty member described her experience on two contrasting campuses: I always knew I wanted to play a leadership role—and make significant changes in the teaching and learning environment—but the first community college made this virtually impossible. Not only did they prescribe my work expectations, but they were also very resistant and threatened by the changes I was pursuing. When I came to this campus, I had a lot more freedom in the way I

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could think about my role—I hosted a variety of on-campus conferences and also worked at the statewide level to help improve the way we serve students of color; all this was considered part of my contract.

One of the key strategies for assisting faculty to pursue leadership opportunities is to find ways for leadership to count as institutional service. This strategy often happened at the departmental level through the allocation of workload and role expectations. One faculty member at the regional public described how it would be extremely difficult for her in her pretenure years to exercise leadership for organizational change to create an environmental studies program, as well as meet service requirements by serving on assigned committees. We repeatedly heard stories of department chairs or deans who found ways to count leadership toward tenure and promotion requirements related to teaching or service. While substituting leadership for service seems intuitive, department chairs went further, and some substituted leadership for teaching. As one faculty member at the liberal arts college noted: “I was really interested in figuring out how to help students support the on-campus farm. My department chair suggested that I create an independent study class around that objective, and we counted it as my teaching.” In the end, these creative solutions for fostering faculty leadership helped both the institution and individual faculty members and addressed some of the challenges around tenure. Several faculty noted how these efforts to include leadership as part of their role really demonstrated the value placed on leadership—leadership was important to the faculty and administrators on these campuses, and they were willing to substitute teaching and service where it made sense or to help faculty connect leadership to research. Autonomy and flexibility helped manage rising publications standards and the expanding role of faculty. For staff members, rigidity in their daily worklife and lack of flexibility to control their job responsibilities also hindered their grassroots efforts. Juan experienced backlash when he developed a training program to support transfer students in the admissions office he worked. He was given little to no flexibility to determine and craft the ways to help support transfer students beyond traditional methods of academic counseling. In fact, his supervisor felt so threatened by him taking a leadership role that Juan was formally written up and his job threatened. The claim was that all such work was outside his responsibilities, limiting severely what he could work on. Over time, he realized he had to leave that job, as it would provide him no opportunity to conduct the leadership work for which he was passionate. In contrast, Debbie was able to move for-



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ward with the Pride Center because her role as an advocate for women’s issues—domestic violence, sexual assault, and the like—was perceived as including the development of support systems for students. She did not have a rigid set of responsibilities but a general charge that allowed for flexibility to pursue any effort related to advocacy among all the constituent groups on campus. If staff members left or turned over, she could cover areas and continue to make the change work move forward, critical to her success. Off-Campus Conferences and Professional Development While faculty and staff did not bring up traditional leadership programs, they did mention conferences they had attended, hosted by national associations (in particular the American Association for Higher Education, or AAHE), as extremely important to their leadership development. Associations such as AAHE discussed innovative ideas that resonated with faculty and staff from diversity and assessment, to innovations in teaching and learning and campus and community partnerships. These conferences typically helped them foster a vision, create a network of like-minded people, learn leadership skills, and garner insight into the ways they might approach change on their own campuses. Faculty and staff members noted how the conferences assisted them in developing leadership skills they were lacking but also saved time by developing key strategies and examples (so they could still play a leadership role as the workload increased and demands for publication were rising). Departments and schools that made such opportunities available for faculty, through additional funding or by letting faculty know about opportunities, fostered greater leadership. One faculty member at the community college spoke about this experience: Most of us on campus who are involved with diversity, assessment, service learning, we went to AAHE. And because it is not our disciplinary conference, it helped that the chairs have given money. It would have been harder to go. Some of us did forgo our disciplinary conferences some years to go . . . it was just that important. But the connections, ideas, they made a huge difference. We have these great tools for implementing service learning and for assessing student learning in those courses.

Conferences socialize faculty and staff to leadership, introduce them to leadership skills, and connect them to people who can help them learn shortcuts for facilitating their leadership effort and, for faculty in particular, leaving time for publishing. These conferences, specifically those sponsored by AAHE, also brought staff and faculty together and helped

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to create networks across the campuses locally and across initiatives nationally. External support from associations and other agencies that had a vested interest in a specific topic were also important for staff. Many student affairs professionals, for example, attend conferences each year such as NASPA (National Association of Student Personnel Administrators) and ACPA (American College Personnel Association). At these conferences, staff have an opportunity to interact with other leaders, understand the national context for initiatives, and gain new ideas. A group at the community college found one specific association particularly helpful in conceptualizing a plan to support their initiative. She explained, “A group of us went to the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity, and, at that point, they actually did a presentation, and they talked about a multicultural plan, so we said ‘Uh huh, that’s what we need.’ So we developed a multicultural plan.” This area is one where faculty and staff integrated and had opportunities to meet each other and create larger networks. Associations such as AAHE and conferences similar to the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity drew both faculty and staff and often resulted in collaborations. At the community college, groups of faculty and staff attended the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity together and shared lessons learned with colleagues back on campus committed to diversity. These types of opportunities are particularly important for staff who need faculty supporters, as explained in Chapter Seven, to overcome power conditions they face. c a m p us w i de a pp roac h e s While the department was the central area for fostering faculty grassroots leadership and mentioned most as the key area where faculty had felt supported, faculty also noted certain strategies that individuals within central administration can use to support faculty grassroots leadership. Staff who relied on the support of vice presidents or deans of students shared the same sentiment. Perhaps the most often mentioned and powerful strategy for helping both faculty and staff was helping to create campus networks. Second, faculty and staff discussed the importance of developing mechanisms to include faculty and staff in governance. For faculty, this meant creating policies for non–tenure track faculty. Third, grassroots leaders mentioned addressing departmental or unit dysfunctionality as an extremely significant and meaningful support for playing a leadership role. Faculty and staff also noted the way administrators can help shape a campus that embraced questioning.



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Collegiality and Campus Networks Administrators helped foster faculty and staff leadership by creating connections among people and valuing collegiality. As one faculty member at the research university mentioned: Perhaps the most important factor to help support and create more faculty leadership is the networks that have been created on campus. Some were created by faculty, who reached out to others. Some were supported by administrators, who provided money for forums or conferences. But these are the connections that resulted in much more faculty leadership.

Faculty warned that administrators tended to rely on the same few faculty within a small network. That creates a burden on a small set of individuals. Instead, faculty noted that network building needed to be ongoing and reach out to new people. Administrators created networks through a variety of mechanisms. On some campuses, centers for teaching and learning offered symposia and workshops. Other colleges offered lunchtime forums—providing money for faculty to organize events and bring in speakers. For example, the technical college sponsored faculty learning communities through the Faculty Professional Development Center to cultivate faculty networks and promote collaboration on different themes each year (for example, teaching and learning with technology, civic engagement, creating a learning-centered campus). Faculty selected for the program met several times throughout the academic year to discuss the topic, identify individual and collaborative projects related to the theme, receive funding to travel to conferences related to the learning community theme, and present their projects to the campus community at an end-of-theyear forum. These same types of professional development opportunities worked to assist staff and created connections between faculty and staff. For example, Safe Zone training (combating homophobia) open to faculty and staff helped to get these groups in the same room to discuss issues and create connections. Another example of creating connections was physically building faculty or staff offices near each other and creating common spaces on campus for people to meet and eat lunch. One faculty member described this issue: “We started to hold a Thursday late-afternoon meet-and-greet where everyone met for a little food and beverage. It was a big success in people meeting and starting up new projects and leadership activities.” Faculty leaders on campus described how campus collegiality and mentoring networks helped address the rising publication standards by linking faculty to other individuals whom they might work with on a

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leadership effort. The network encouraged leadership by saving faculty time, allowing them to meet colleagues quickly, and giving them more time for focusing on publication and building relationships. In a sense, faculty needed instant relationships built and could not afford the time to organically develop relationships because of the current pressures in the academy. They also felt more confident playing a leadership role when they had a base of support across campus. A few people mentioned how campus networks played a role in decreasing the negative impacts of academic capitalism by connecting people back to campus and making them more engaged. Another way to assist staff in creating networks is to build relationships across initiatives and groups that shared similar interests. Student affairs professionals, for example, are uniquely connected with other offices under the larger umbrella of student affairs. The uniformity of their missions and ethic—to help students—assists in creating a preexisting network to capitalize on to promote change. One student affairs professional explained how she approached change efforts on her campus: Maybe we [student affairs offices] could all come together and share resources, and create that change together, whether it may be for immigration rights or may be a recycling program on campus. So, let’s maybe bring our people power together to work on it, to create and mobilize change.

While many student affairs units, offices, or centers are small and resource poor, their collective efforts can have a large impact on the campus, and their collective expertise can bring skills to help make an initiative successful. For example, a cultural center could network with other offices to help organize and advertise an event. Some staff who have expertise in marketing could create the advertisements, others could use their network to garner support, and yet others would use their influence with academic affairs to cultivate interest and, potentially, funds for the event. By partnering together, student affairs groups could be able to gain access to larger networks, capitalize on expertise, and cultivate more awareness of their efforts. Develop Policies for Including the Non–Tenure Track Faculty and Staff in Governance and Leadership Contracts for non–tenure track faculty typically only speak to teaching. If service is mentioned, very little detail is provided, so the faculty are unclear as to how their service requirements might be met and if leadership will count. Typically non–tenure track faculty receive little men-



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toring, no annual reviews, and little substantive feedback (Baldwin & Chronister, 2001). Campuses that fostered non–tenure track leadership put new policies and procedures in place: It was a real proud moment for me to see the administration address and put in place policies for contingent faculty. Much of our diversity effort was led by part-timers, and this work was not being acknowledged in their evaluations. Now this work is formally acknowledged.

To capitalize on the leadership potential of this very large and growing population, interviewees noted that their campuses had created more specific guidelines and policies and amended practices for their inclusion. Faculty contracts were altered to include specifics on service and leadership. Non–tenure track faculty were included on faculty senates, committees, department meetings, and other governing bodies. While some institutions may choose not to give contingent faculty equal voting rights, ensuring that they can participate in some manner is important. Campuses that are unionized should address governance in union contracts. It is important that a myriad of issues be addressed from representation, to voting rights, inclusion in various bodies, and remuneration for governance work. Also, non–tenure track faculty are often excluded from professional development opportunities where leadership can be developed. At the campuses we studied, non–tenure track faculty were encouraged and allowed the opportunity to participate in professional development. For more details about including non–tenure track faculty in governance and for revising union contracts, see Baldwin & Chronister, 2001; Kezar, Lester and Anderson, 2006; Kezar & Sam, 2010. Staff are often excluded when it comes to campus governance and leadership. Most campuses still have faculty senates, but staff have less formal mechanisms for participating in campus decision making and in participating in leadership efforts. On campuses that were unionized, many staff mentioned the unions as a place that staff could help foster leadership. The unions are a place where leadership skills could be developed, as the unions often offered leadership training for members. Union leaders also often worked to include staff in campus governance mechanisms and to understand how the organization worked to help foster their grassroots leadership skills. Administrators who support unions can build staff leadership. Yet many campuses are not unionized, so it is helpful if administrators help staff to see leadership as a desirable part of their role within the organization and to develop formal structures to support leadership development. Colleges that set up campus assemblies that include faculty and staff in forums for decision

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making also signal that staff matter in terms of institutional voice and leadership. The administration should advocate for the development of campus assemblies or staff governing boards. Address Lack of Community and Dysfunctional Departments Many faculty and staff described how a sense of community within their departments or units led to innovation and ongoing change—but they also noted how many dysfunctional departments existed on campus and that administrators needed to intervene in such departments. By using the term dysfunctional, faculty and staff were generally referring to individuals or groups within a department who had such significant interpersonal conflict or an unwillingness to work together that work as a department on any collective initiative was virtually impossible. A second level of dysfunction, mentioned less often, was faculty or staff who were so embedded in the status quo that they would fight any new idea—without listening to the logic. Addressing departmental or unit dynamics typically requires intervention by the dean or vice president— it often involves campuswide institutional agents because it relates to contracts and human resources. One faculty member in chemistry at the liberal arts college described how they created a series of new courses to help women and people of color be more successful in introductory courses. These faculty also worked in conjunction with faculty from the mathematics department because many of students were not performing well enough in math to major in science. Establishing these types of curricular changes is usually not easy; a faculty member commented that a similar effort had failed in biology and physics because of personal and territorial issues. The faculty member did note that administrators (and other faculty) were often afraid to address dysfunctional interpersonal dynamics within departments, and thus collective leadership that could help to improve the teaching and learning environment was unlikely to develop. Faculty are more likely to take up leadership roles if they feel they can be effective and not brought into a myriad of interpersonal dynamics—not of their own making. Because time is so limited within this new academic world, with pressures to publish and secure grants and with an expanded faculty role and so on, faculty appreciated administrators who helped address dysfunctional dynamics. Faculty also noted that they were less likely to play a leadership role in dysfunctional departments because such activity could threaten tenure and promotion.



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Faculty were more likely to trust that the leadership would not be used against them in the tenure and promotion process if they had colleagues who were supportive and collegial. For staff, dysfunctional departments and/or units had a substantial impact on their grassroots leadership activities. One staff member explained: I was making some important changes for first-generation students, and they were working, but I had no support and had to give up several times. We had a boss for years who was afraid of not controlling everything and made it impossible to do your work. He also had some personality problems, very serious. For years, everyone just ignored his behavior (the higher-ups), and lots of people left our department. I stayed—I just feel too committed. Finally, someone was hired who said, “What is this guy doing?” and recognized that good work below the supervisor was being squandered. So he finally got fired.

Staff are also vulnerable to microaggressions from faculty who do not have the authority to hire or fire but can make the daily work and work environment for staff unpleasant. Some strategies for addressing dysfunctional dynamics noted were bringing in mediators, moving faculty to different departments, firing or moving supervisors, splitting or restructuring departments or units, setting up systems of accountability for the department or unit, making an ombudsman available who was also empowered to act, providing a whistle-blowing-type hotline, and reassigning people in authority positions. These approaches were often more important with faculty, who turn over less frequently, and, thus entrenched, dysfunctional units were more likely to emerge. A faculty member at the regional public university described how the dean intervened in their department and the way it helped the leadership effort she was working on: We were moving toward a model of hands-on and field-based pedagogy, but there were three older faculty who just did not agree, and we kept getting stuck (one was the department chair). Those of us leading it were about to give up when the dean met with us and asked how things were going. After we reported the problems, the dean met with a few other people in the administration and then asked the department chair to step down and convinced another faculty member to go on earlier retirement. There was then just one person left, and he fell in line and stopped causing problems.

As already noted, addressing departmental dysfunctionality encourages greater grassroots leadership because faculty and staff believe they would have more efficacy in their leadership, would spend less time working through personality issues and politics, and would not

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face retribution in the promotion or evaluation processes. Certainly, on research university campus or institutions where faculty have greater ­professional autonomy and authority, the faculty themselves may be able to play a larger role in combating the dysfunctional dynamics. However, in the institutions we studied, the administration intervening was key to overcoming dysfunctional departmental dynamics. Campuses That See Questioning as Healthy— Not Threatening Because many faculty and staff fear being labeled as troublemakers, which can affect their tenure and promotion (or continued employment, if they are contract faculty members or staff), campuses that are not threatened by questioning are much more likely to have grassroots leadership and, in particular, to glean leadership from non–tenure track faculty, pretenure faculty, and staff. Campuses that have a strong culture in support of faculty academic freedom tend to be places where campuses see questioning as healthy. One faculty member at the liberal arts college described how, in recognizing that questioning was considered healthy on her campus, she was drawn into leadership in her pretenure years: I really wanted to help students fight for greater staff equity. I also participated in labor organizing as a graduate student. So the issues were close to my heart, but I just wasn’t sure if this was a good idea since I had only been on the campus for two years. But fairly quickly, through some senior colleagues, I discovered that my leadership would not jeopardize my tenure. I’m not saying I didn’t have to be careful, but I didn’t have to fear for my job or for my future.

To determine whether the campus was truly an environment open to questioning, faculty and staff described looking for indicators, such as administration being open to ideas from students and community members: “You watch and see how administrators respond to student requests and community concerns . . . these are really good barometers.” To create an environment that sees questioning as healthy, campus administrators can positively acknowledge change efforts that are occurring both inside and outside the institution, recognize activism as engagement in leadership, be open to addressing concerns raised by faculty and staff, and ask for input and feedback on an ongoing basis. Faculty and staff expressed being more likely to take a leadership role when they knew that the campus was open to critique and that their comments and actions would not be used against them.



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m u lt il e v e l — fos t e r l e a de r sh i p rol e ­m ode l s a n d m e n tor s One finding cuts across the department-, school-, and campuswide levels and can be used by institutional agents at any level to support faculty and staff grassroots leadership: role models and mentors. Without the skills to lead, faculty and staff could not even imagine pursuing change. Because faculty and staff are generally not socialized to be effective leaders in institutional change, role models and mentors serve a pivotal function in helping to create and foster leadership on campus. Senior faculty informally provide mentoring to new faculty, teaching them how to create visions for change, political skills, strategies and tactics (for example, letter writing, meetings and negotiation, and working with student activists) that are effective on a particular campus. As one faculty member at the community college commented: I feel really lucky that we have faculty who see it as part of their role to help me understand how to create coalitions, write compelling concept papers, and negotiate with the administration and other faculty. I would never have been able to transform the curriculum in the ways that I have without this guidance. At times it was more informal; other times I was really being mentored.

Mentors also typically taught or modeled ways to navigate resistance and overcome barriers (again, saving faculty time within this high-stress academic environment). Another faculty member at the regional public university described how role modeling was also important because there are often not enough mentors: Well, my experience is not quite in mentoring, and I think it’s been quite successful. I watch people; when I see something that seems like a successful approach to change, I make a mental note. I also ask them questions and try to understand how they made it happen.

While at many campuses mentoring was an individual activity, some campuses created structures that permeated a department or even the campus. Several campuses had established formal faculty networks that included a mentoring function; for example, faculty groups for women faculty in the sciences, faculty of color, gay and lesbian faculty, faculty committed to sustainability, and the like. In addition, campuses could ensure that faculty professional development opportunities (learning communities, committees, forums) included both senior and junior faculty, maximizing opportunities for cross-generational mentoring and contact.

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These activities were not unique to faculty. Many staff members participated in informal mentoring; pulling new staff and faculty into networks and helping them learn how to be grassroots leaders (particularly in student affairs). In fact, staff were much more intentional and systematic about mentoring, and we came to label this phenomenon “intergenerational mentoring.” Staff members who came to their jobs in the 1960s and 1970s were nearing retirement. They began employment at the time when grassroots leadership was quite common, and they have great skills in this area. These older staff felt it was their legacy to communicate these skills to new staff members who were coming in and who will inherit the academy. In their early careers, they did not intentionally think about training and mentoring others, but now, as they prepared to retire, these staff grassroots leaders realized that they needed to foster and support younger grassroots leaders. This phenomenon is on the rise as this massive generational retirement takes place. Yet this process can be capitalized on more, if the network of older staff across the institution could talk and work in a more concerted effort to train the next generation. One staff member, close to retirement, talked about the importance of mentoring the next generation: I really feel that we can be more successful in our grassroots efforts if we think about this intergenerationally. My staff are working on issues I dealt with thirty years ago; these issues do not go away or get resolved quickly. So, as grassroots leaders, we need to think about constantly training the next generation and then mentor them. I came to that much later. I am trying to train people to know it is their responsibility to pass this on now, not in twenty years. We need to pay it forward much more quickly. Our generation waited too long.

This method was particularly effective when faculty and staff worked together, as was the case with the diversity initiative. Faculty and staff sat together on search committees and hired like-minded people whom they later reached out toward, once they came on campus. The regular meetings that included both staff and faculty provided opportunities to integrate and mentor new hires and created a network that crossed boundaries that were typically closed off. As we have noted, a major problem for staff is creating contacts on the faculty side to foster and make their grassroots leadership efforts successful and to combat institutional power conditions. The value of mentors and role models cannot be underestimated. This practice was perhaps the most important for fostering grassroots leadership skills, one that often emerged organically. But for mentoring to emerge, there must be faculty and staff leadership in existence



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already. On campuses where little leadership existed, schools or departments began by bringing in leadership training coaches. While this contradicts the importance of a guild approach, these units, departments, or campuses may not have had any other choice if leadership mentors did not exist. One faculty member at the research university explained the importance of this strategy and how it was needed because faculty were not socialized to learn leadership: Leadership training coaches are needed to help faculty. We do not learn these skills in graduate school, quite the opposite. I did not know how to manage people, develop a vision, and effectively communicate. We really need to systematically train people. That has really been hard, not knowing those skills and trying to make significant changes that I know will serve students well.

Having little leadership to draw on was usually more of a problem among faculty. Staff usually had a set of individuals with the skills and abilities to act as role models and mentors. For staff, the challenge was for role models and mentors to see their responsibility and to execute it. It is also important to note that the challenges campuses face vary (such as rising publications standards versus academic capitalism), so it is important that campuses examine the most significant problems and adopt vehicles that will address that issue. For example, the technical college had a rise of contingent faculty, and this rise made the need for policies for contingent faculty more important on this campus, whereas the liberal arts college was dealing with the rise in publication standards and expansion of faculty role, which made creating campus networks, providing autonomy, increasing flexibility in role, and addressing dysfunctional department dynamics particularly important. conclusion In the Appendix, we describe the literature on grassroots leaders, noting how grassroots leaders needed different development from top-down leaders. The findings in this chapter mirror insights from this literature— faculty and staff on campus need unique development that is generally informal and works at removing barriers often set up by those in positions of authority (often unintentionally). One of the primary issues that we identified in our study is that there are many barriers in place that make grassroots leadership difficult on today’s campuses. As a result, our research sought ways that such leadership can be fostered and encouraged. We highlight policies, practices, and changes to ­institutional

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culture that can fundamentally support and encourage more grassroots leadership. The contribution of this study is a broad set of approaches to support grassroots leadership—that also address and are sensitive to problems documented in research, such as rising publication standards, status quo culture of the academy, encouragement of revenue generation among staff, and rise of contingent faculty.

chapter thirteen

Moving Forward Leadership Implications and Future Research

; In the previous chapters, we described the tactics, obstacles, risks, challenges, and phenomena surrounding and related to faculty and staff grassroots leadership. In this final chapter, we draw larger conclusions about leadership in higher education, reflecting on existing leadership theory as well as on recent literature about faculty and staff. This chapter highlights the ways the current study enhances our current theoretical understanding about leadership and the ways we complement and add to the existing research. We also summarize themes from across the chapters about advice for faculty and staff grassroots leaders that have implications for grassroots leaders in other organizational settings. Finally, we suggest future research that is needed on the topic, based on insights from this three-year study. While the book focuses on an education audience, it has many new insights into and implications for the broader leadership and organizational studies scholarship, which will be highlighted throughout this chapter. r e t h i n k i ng l e a de r sh i p i n h ig h e r e duc at ion This book set out to challenge the prevailing image in the literature that presidents, provosts, and deans are the primary leaders on campus. While we knew faculty and staff were playing a leadership role, it remained largely undocumented. Zinn (2003) reminds us that the major media will not describe the acts of resistance and change, by average people, taking place every day in society. Similarly, our organizations do not report on the many acts made by those outside positions of authority. Also, there is a common stereotype of the faculty as maintaining the

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status quo, being unwilling to change and play a leadership role, which we hoped to dispel. However, by no means do we intend to suggest that grassroots leadership is common. While it happens, as documented throughout this book, grassroots leadership is fraught with problems and difficulties (for example, power dynamics, organizational barriers, group infighting, dysfunctional organizational environments, and fear) that make faculty and staff hesitant to take up the challenge, making leadership a less common act than perhaps it should be in higher education. Thus, grassroots leadership is in a precarious position—it happens more than currently imagined but less than it could or should to tap into the full leadership capacity on campuses. And the academy is often a cynical place, squashing the good intentions and enthusiasm—particularly of young faculty and staff. Cynics abound to tell grassroots leaders that their work does not matter and that they cannot make a difference because injustice and inequity are human nature. Yet if grassroots leaders become more networked with individuals possessing faith, hope, and optimism about the potential for change, this could alter the climate on individual campuses. This book builds on the important literature from gender and ethnic studies and illustrates how faculty and staff work from the bottom up to transform the nature of the academy. A few studies exist but were often not described as leadership research. In their study of faculty involved in the women’s movement, Astin and Leland (1991) were the first scholars to document the bottom-up work of women faculty and label this work “leadership.” We built on this work, looking at staff as well as faculty and across a host of initiatives and institutional types. The study documents that leadership work is happening outside those in positions of authority. Other organizations (political or health) need studies that document grassroots leaders and their work. We also built on the tradition set by Astin and Leland (1991) that grassroots leadership is different. Our bottom-up leaders can learn little from the leadership literature on college presidents and provosts. The tactics, obstacles, and the power conditions they face are quite different from grassroots leaders. Yet there are certainly some areas where top-down and bottom-up leaders share some similar concepts and concerns. In interviews with college presidents (in other studies), they too talk about student success as a major motivator for being leaders. There are some common motivations. However, grassroots leaders face very different conditions than do those in authority when they approach their leadership work. Top-down leaders have many institutional levers at their fingertips, from incentives to evaluations to campus mandates to strategic planning processes. Top-down leaders can work with a small



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group, such as a cabinet, to shape their agenda. Grassroots leaders must forge a much larger collective, manage intragroup relationships, find ways to raise consciousness, and mobilize people largely outside any institutional mechanisms. Grassroots leaders may face institutionalized oppression and bullying on a daily basis, particularly staff and contingent faculty. While top-down leaders contend with power, there are many fewer personal consequences. Job loss is a more remote possibility, and poor evaluations, demotions, taking away rewards, controlling, and silencing are just not likely for top-down leaders; they are a daily reality for grassroots leaders. However, this is not to say that presidents are not subject to pressures from chancellors and boards. Those in positions of authority are challenged to obtain buy-in and experience resistance, sometimes hostility, toward their efforts. However, the conditions and stakes are quite different. Grassroots leaders have unique obstacles they face—they deal with being stigmatized, taking a third shift, increasing publication standards for faculty, their roles being more strictly and narrowly defined, intergenerational divides, and problems with group solidarity, to name a few. Yet grassroots leaders share some common obstacles with those in positions of authority, such as loss of commitment, divergent visions, the status quo culture of the institution, and high turnover. Grassroots leadership is inherently different in many ways—it is more collective and fraught with more intergroup issues; it involves tactics specific to grassroots organizing; it requires a more serious struggle with power conditions that have more dramatic and concrete repercussions. Grassroots leaders have more to lose when they converge their efforts with those of top-down leaders; they have more complex and devastating sets of obstacles and greater risk and cost. We also identified a grassroots leadership unique to educational organizations. The leaders oriented tactics and strategies to work within the higher education institutions and to fit the norms of the academy. Successful grassroots leaders were savvy to develop an overarching strategy tied to the mission of the institution. Many of the obstacles, particularly the organizational-level ones, were reflective of campus contexts, such as the division between academic and student affairs or the culture of academic capitalism. Sources of resiliency were often specific to the educational context as well; for example, intellectual passion, colleagues, and student progress and success. We identified ways to foster grassroots leadership that are more informal and reflect the historic guild approach—where faculty or staff would mentor and teach each other to be grassroots leaders. We also documented the impact of neoliberalism and privatization—global phenomena—that play out uniquely as academic capitalism on campus. We describe the way ­academic

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c­ apitalism shapes grassroots leadership, as well as the way grassroots leaders subvert this powerful philosophy to meet their own goals. In these and other ways, we show how grassroots leadership emerges distinctly within educational contexts. Our study suggests that scholars studying grassroots leadership in other institutional settings will also find distinctive phenomena in need of documentation. This book documents many ways that grassroots leadership builds the capacity of campuses. Grassroots leaders make changes that respond to important public and policy makers’ concerns, and they work at the level most likely to achieve institutionalization of these changes. Grassroots leaders work toward socially progressive goals and counter the growing corporate environment on many campuses. Grassroots leadership builds community on campus by creating a more ethical and equitable environment. Faculty and staff are closer to students and can serve as more direct role models, building future leaders for our country and world. Grassroots leadership builds the capacity for leadership and a more effective and higher-quality campus. We liken grassroots leadership to the phenomenon of social entrepreneurship. In the past, societies depended on government and leaders in authority to solve problems, but community and social problems persisted and worsened. Leaders at the top were just too out of touch with day-to-day social problems to come up with helpful solutions, in many cases (Bornstein, 2007). Bornstein notes that although “governments and traditional organizations look at problems from the outside, social entrepreneurs come to understand them intimately, from within.” In recent years, many of the good ideas for making changes in pivotal areas of society are coming from day-to-day people on the ground offering solutions for numerous challenges: poverty, financial illiteracy, environmental concerns, climate change, health care reform, child protection and services, disability rights, and the like (Bornstein, 2007). As Bornstein notes, as of his writing, two of the last three Nobel Peace Prize winners have been social entrepreneurs. While these individuals and groups struggled in the past to obtain support for their ideas, now nonprofits and governments are looking to social entrepreneurs for help in solving the most vexing community problems. We saw that faculty and staff have the solutions to many key problems on campus, and we hope this book encourages administrators and those in positions of authority, like trustees and policy makers, to look to faculty and staff for ideas and implementation. How might campuses (as well as other organizations) see grassroots leaders as a source of social entrepreneurship, developing solutions unlikely to happen from the top down and improving campus operations? As the book title suggests, we see grassroots leadership as



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fundamentally improving the leadership capacity of campuses. Faculty and staff do differ from social entrepreneurs in that they are institutionally located, and entrepreneurs are often without any organizational affiliation. This difference aside, they share many characteristics. With the current state of higher education, grassroots leadership could not be promoted at a more timely point in higher education’s history. Over the time we wrote this book, the academy continued further down the road toward academic capitalism and a more privatized and corporate environment. A recession has ensued, making corporate and hierarchical practices more commonplace on campuses than shared leadership practices. In the last ten years, many institutions have largely ignored the calls for a return to shared governance. It is likely that grassroots leadership will be the more common paradigm in future years, rather than a shared leadership model. Faculty can subvert the academic capitalist environment—using the norms for their own benefit and for the good of the campus. It is also possible that, as campuses become more top down and authoritative and as the labor movement (unionization) generates more energy, a more confrontational approach will emerge between administrators on the one side and faculty and staff on the other. This trend may not bode well for creating changes needed on campus. The delicate balance we found to foster grassroots leadership may dissipate, and a deadlock could emerge between top-down and bottom-up interests that have less and less in common. Will a tempered approach be pushed aside because the conditions make it seem untenable? As Meyerson (2003) warns, if we no longer see an opportunity to work with others and if people begin to dehumanize each other, this situation will paralyze meaningful change and cripple campuses’ capacity for leadership. Policy makers and boards need to recognize that the situation created on campuses (top-down and centralized decisions, taking away faculty and staff voices) is likely not helping to foster leadership capacity but to hamper it. While we move farther away from shared governance and potential for true shared leadership on campuses, we need to understand more about why this loss matters. Perhaps the most important area for future research is to examine what the impact of these changes in shared governance is on creating meaningful changes on campus. Studies have examined the trend that faculty has less input, but there have been no studies about the impact or results. In other words, does it matter, and how does it matter? Our study suggests it does matter, but we did not conduct an experimental design study to more carefully sort out impact. While we need to continue to do research and call for a return to shared governance, it is also important to explore these other alternatives for

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leadership on campus as we have done. Grassroots leadership may be an important alternative to shared governance as it increasingly dissipates on campuses. Other types of organizations such as health care (as they move to managed care) have undergone changes similar to those in academe. The findings from this study may also have implications for these other sectors. r e f l e c t ions on t h e l i t e r at u r e a n d ­t h e or e t ic a l f r a m e wor k s This study made a clear case for the value of grassroots literature and the tempered radicals framework for understanding the bottom-up efforts of faculty and staff grassroots leaders. As predicted by Meyerson (2003), faculty and staff generally take and are more successful with a tempered approach. They use the techniques of flying under the radar, small wins, and negotiation to move their efforts forward. We hope that more research uses this framework (on other types of organizations and within other studies of education), which was helpful for understanding the overall approach to grassroots leadership within institutional settings. The grassroots leadership literature also provided many insights for explaining faculty and staff bottom-up leadership. The most helpful literature was on tactics, which helped create a framework from vision to mobilization, clarifying how grassroots leaders can move a change effort forward. While we found unique mechanisms within the educational environment for enacting these tactics, each tactic was apparent in successful change processes. We also identified a uniquely “educational” strategy taken on campuses. The grassroots literature on obstacles and resiliency offered us helpful concepts for exploring these issues, and we added to this literature by understanding uniquely educational obstacles like increasing productivity demands and a conservative and changeaverse culture in the academy. The motivation and identity literature discussed important concepts (personal vision, differences by race or gender) that helped us understand and appreciate how grassroots leaders approach their work. The literature on leadership development suggested that grassroots leaders face unique obstacles and challenges that require different curricula and support from top-down leaders, and our findings support this insight. We also identified the informal ways leadership development and support happen through mentoring and supportive individuals who remove systemic barriers. Grassroots literature does not stress organizational and systemic barriers because grassroots



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leaders outside organizations do not deal with these constraints. Our contribution was to demonstrate how grassroots leaders develop leadership in institutional settings and the various institutional barriers that make it difficult to play a leadership role. The institution can and does set up formidable barriers to having more leadership on campus, but, as we demonstrated, there are ways around this problem. The grassroots and tempered radicals literature was missing some important concepts that we were able to illuminate: power dynamics in institutional settings; views of power and their effect on leadership style; the ways to informally build grassroots leadership within institutional settings; the way that academic capitalism shapes grassroots leadership; and convergence—specifically from the bottom up. Although power is discussed in the grassroots literature, there is little understanding of power within institutional settings and specifically what impact this would have on grassroots leaders.1 We documented five types of power dynamics and described a host of vehicles for navigating these power conditions. There is also virtually nothing in the literature on grassroots leaders’ views of power and how these have an impact on their style and approach. We demonstrated how a confrontational view of power or seeing power as part of the context (as mostly invisible) hindered grassroots leaders’ success. Most work on grassroots leadership has not examined the impact of the institutional or organizational setting. Our study shed light on how the structures and norms of a campus (or any organization) create particular obstacles, as well as how they can shape the way grassroots leaders act and are successful. We demonstrate how the culture of academic capitalism has created obstacles and altered the behavior of grassroots leaders. We demonstrated how some faculty and staff have subverted this logic in order to further grassroots leadership. Because grassroots leadership happens outside institutional settings, convergence with top-down leaders is not addressed in the literature. The tempered radicals framework does not explicitly address this issue either. We examined convergence in a way that others have not before— looking at it from the bottom up, led by grassroots leaders. Models of distributed and shared leadership focus on how top-down leaders can involve those at the bottom in their changes efforts. Our focus is on how bottom-up leaders can involve and merge with those in power to broaden their efforts. There is little if any research in this area. These four issues emerged as significant in our study, and we hope they will be areas of future research. It is also important to note that grassroots leadership is a far more universal phenomenon than we imagined. As organizational researchers, we thought that there would be quite significant differences by

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i­nstitutional type. We expected grassroots faculty leaders in research universities to have experiences that would be fairly distinctive from those in the community college or liberal arts institution because of the vast differences that exist in the structures and cultures of these institutions. Yet we found far more commonalities in obstacles, tactics, ways to foster grassroots leadership, and power conditions than we expected. Perhaps a study with an even larger sample of institutional contexts might unearth more distinctions than we were able to within this study. We actively analyzed the data for differences but found that grassroots leaders in very different institutional settings had much in common and that the difference in faculty autonomy, governance processes, unions, leadership and authority structures, campus culture, and the like did not have the significant impact that we expected. We did note a few differences based on institutional context related to power conditions or emphasis in tactics. Yet, grassroots leaders share more in common even though they exist in different spheres of experience within these institutional types. We imagine there are unique campuses, though, that could shape the nature of grassroots leadership more and alter the experience in more significant ways. r e f l e c t ions on t h e fac u lt y a n d ­g ov e r n a nc e l i t e r at u r e Given the active debate about the value of faculty governance, voice, and agency in the academy, it seems important to reflect on our findings and to identify what they suggest for this important conversation taking place. Our findings clearly support Gary Rhoades’s (1996, 1998) findings that faculty have become managed professionals in an environment of academic capitalism. Throughout our book, we have demonstrated how faculty and staff respond to the demands for revenue generation, more top-down management, productivity, accountability, and decline in shared governance. Mary Burgan’s book, Whatever Happened to the Faculty? (2006), reflects on changes that have occurred during the last twenty years among the faculty, particularly their input on campus affairs and governance and roles as change agents. As a leader within the AAUP, she worked closely with campuses in the areas of faculty rights, governance, and policy. Over the time she was at the AAUP, she watched the professoriate change from largely tenured to untenured, from active in governance to experiencing the breakdown of shared governance, and to the general decline in faculty power, voice, and autonomy. While in Washington,



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DC, she heard higher education leaders talk about faculty as employees rather than professionals, reflecting the corporatization of the academy. She is critical not only of the managerial establishment but of the faculty establishment that she feels has been complacent as tenure eroded, faculty governance dissipated, and faculty autonomy was usurped. Not only were they passive, but she admits tenure track faculty fueled the changes as they pursued individual prestige and power at the cost of a collective faculty (Burgan, 2006). Our study does suggest that the many faculty have been complacent or resistant to changes that would support their own rights and voice but that there may be more existing energy, through campus grassroots leaders, to fuel change. Burgan (2006) also suggests that we need to think anew about governance. Shared governance is often too slow and inefficient to work within the more complex system that higher education has become. The business model with top-down decision making misses input from those closest to the teaching and learning environment. Unions, she argues, prevent change, focus too much on faculty rights over student learning, and do not operate under the norms of professionalism where faculty have input into decision making that affects their work. She suggests that a collaborative model, like shared governance, is the best approach and that the unions’ oppositional stance is less likely to lead to the desired voice in decision-making processes (Burgan, 2006). Yet our study (while limited to a very small sample) suggested that unions can promote innovation and change. While Burgan may be right, that faculty turn to unions before thinking through other collective action they might take to restore governance or voice, we wondered about this trend, given the difficult environment in which faculty increasingly find themselves. 2 If there are so few tenured faculty, how can the non–tenure track faculty safely rise up and have voice in a system that is dismantling their power and agency? Perhaps unionism is exactly the type of grassroots activity that can bring faculty out of their passivity to play a role, not just in the unions but more broadly on campus. The key is to extend that activism beyond faculty rights to the teaching and learning conditions on campus. One campus in our study had taken this step, while others missed the opportunity for voice beyond faculty rights. Burgan (2006) believes that the National Labor Relations Act of 1935 situates workers and management with little ability for normal and professional collegial interactions and is not a good model for faculty who are professionals. Yet, as Gary Rhoades (1998) suggests, faculty are increasingly managed professionals, so perhaps unions are better suited to creating faculty voice and input into decision making in this environment. Faculty can shape the campus more as a collective

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than separately. Unions also provide leadership training, which is critical for playing the grassroots leadership role on campus. Burgan does argue that a union paired with a strong faculty senate might be the best approach for ensuring faculty voice. She remains concerned that most campuses depend on only the senate or union, which alone may not provide voice and space to create change. But, as Burgan notes, unionism is considered antithetical by many to the academy—particularly administrators: Since the mere mention of unionism tends to be greeted in managerial circles with suspicion if not outright hostility, ignorance among those who have not worked on union campuses makes it difficult to open genuine discussion on the subject with the administrative side. (2006, p. 123)

While Burgan leads with the hope of collaboration between faculty and administrators as professionals, we did not find a collaborative spirit on campuses—even though each of the campuses we studied had an existing shared governance process. Authentic voice was not maintained through the shared governance process. And only one campus we studied had a more oppositional and confrontational culture between faculty and administrators. While we do not have the numbers to generalize, our study made us wonder about the viability of collaboration within the context of academic capitalism, where corporate and commercial interests trump educational values. The campuses we studied were not examples of particularly strong cultures of academic capitalism. Do we need the faculty to be oppositional to counter this trend? Shared governance processes seem to waste faculty time and prevent important changes at present rather than foster them. While we agree that collaboration is the right spirit, is that approach realistic or feasible within the current climate? Our evidence suggests it may not be. However, our study also suggested that convergence may occasionally be possible and is extremely important for institutionalizing bottom-up changes. However, we stress that convergence needs to be established more on the faculty and staff members’ terms—as those in power will assert their perspective—intentionally or unintentionally. A purely oppositional stance was not taken by grassroots leaders. As emphasized throughout this book, grassroots leaders played a tempered role and looked for opportunities to converge, becoming oppositional only as a last resort. We recognize there is a fine line between shared governance and tempered radicals; both seek mutualities, but tempered radicals recognize that the administration and others in positions of authority may not have shared interests. But, perhaps rather than continue to have a shared governance process that is often a hoax (often forcing through



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top down interests without any intention of engaging faculty views) and is often slow and unable to truly inform campus decisions, maybe more strategy-driven ad hoc groups should be created. Perhaps grassroots leaders can recommend faculty and staff to serve on these new ad hoc groups. We agree with Burgan that faculty need to be pushed out of their passivity, and we hope that this book will be the inspiration for both the need for faculty voice and the need for new leadership on campus within these new times. We join O’Meara, Terosky, and Neumann’s (2008) call for a view of faculty as having agency. The authors note that the literature in the last twenty years has increasingly documented faculty as constrained, and they worry about this portrayal. They note that several narratives stereotype and constrain faculty: faculty as victims to discrimination, isolated, preoccupied with faculty productivity, as disinterested intellectuals, or focused on prestige. Clearly, faculty had the agency to choose to ignore the move from tenure to non–tenure track positions. They were not prevented from stopping this trend; they choose to ignore this and focus on individual prestige. O’Meara and coauthors (2008) suggest that faculty are not constrained as much as the current literature suggests and that they have agency, commitments, and professional relationships and exhibit professional growth. Perhaps many tenure track faculty had the wrong commitments (this is open to debate), focusing their agency and professional relationships on rewards and prestige, in exchange for a new professional environment where many of their colleagues would have poor working conditions. Our grassroots leaders worked within these constraints, as their colleagues chased individual prestige and the academy moved toward greater corporatization and marketization with reduced faculty power and rights for most. Yet, in many instances, our grassroots leaders did prevail over these constraints. However, while we salute this acknowledgment of the agency faculty can and should exhibit, we caution that, as Schuster and Finkelstein (2006) document: Tenure is largely gone across higher education (this varies by institutional sector, with elite research universities and liberal arts colleges tending to still have tenure as the norm); faculty largely have little say in their work environment through shared governance at many institutions; professional autonomy is severely constrained; the institution is increasingly deskilling their labor through technology, standardized curriculum, and acquiring their intellectual property through paying for syllabus production. Certainly, this varies by institutional type, with elite institutions still having greater autonomy and input from faculty than other institutional types. But the broad trends exist, and

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even elite research university faculty may find themselves with decreasing voice and confronting deskilling in coming years. We agree with O’Meara and colleagues’ (2008) idea of critical agency to try to overcome barriers and challenges; we think that is what the grassroots leaders in this book represent. Yet the story of constraint rings loudly, perhaps more loudly than the narrative of agency. We think O’Meara and colleagues’ gaze is too focused on tenure track faculty in elite institutions, where this sense of agency might be stronger. We position our text in relationship to recent books that focus on the faculty role in a changing context—their agency, power, and potential as leaders constrained (Burgan, 2006; Rhoades, 1998). Our study is about faculty agency and voice through their role as grassroots leaders, but, more than we expected, faculty are constrained, more than we had hoped or imagined as we began. Faculty involvement in campuswide governance is in decline across most institutions in higher education and increasingly provides less of an avenue for leadership (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). Faculty grassroots leaders may need to work increasingly with and through unions to gain back their institutional voice, rather than through shared governance. r e f l e c t ions on s ta f f i n v isi bil i t y a n d t h e i r c h a ng e s i n t h e i r rol e Very little attention is paid to nonprofessional and noninstructional staff in higher education or in other organizational settings. A review of the research reveals little to no discussion of the experiences of staff. Staff are often the lowest paid, are the first to be laid off, and have little voice in institutional decision making; they have limited agency. This book gives voice to staff who are rarely asked their opinions and their efforts remain largely invisible in research and on campuses, other than student affairs staff. Staff create change without formal power and often at great personal risk. They were often afraid that change activities would lead to job loss. Yet staff did engage in change activities. They did so with strong and politically connected networks, using more covert activities and engaging students and tenured faculty to build power and support networks. We also found that the role of staff, particularly student affairs professionals, is changing due to the emergence of academic capitalism. Today, more than ever, student affairs professionals and associations are debating the status of and future of their profession. The ACPA has charged a task force to examine the future of student affairs. The vi-



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sion statement, developed by the task force, speaks to the new changes inherent in the student affairs profession and the increased pressure for student affairs professionals to extend their role to partnership building, alter practices to address external stakeholders, and generate revenue. Similar to the situation of faculty, academic capitalism is changing the relationship between higher education and students, placing student affairs professionals between the entrepreneurial goals of the university and the needs of students. In the more commercialized and market environment that higher education has become, staff also find themselves trying to treat students as customers, balancing the needs and wants of students with institutional goals and at times trying to control students’ behavior that could create negative media attention and affect funding. As customers, students are demanding new amenities (such as recreational gyms), increases in the number and quality of dormitories (or student apartments), and more programs, making staff work more challenging. Higher education institutions are facing increasing state and local budget cuts, and institutions are becoming increasingly concerned with public perception and institutional image that can affect funding. Student misbehavior such as drinking, drug abuse, and violence can have an impact on donor and government perception. Staff face difficult conflicts such as the need to control student behavior while also serving them as “customers” and helping to make them into satisfied alumni who may donate to the university in the future. A tension exists between accommodating the needs of students and proactively and strategically improving institutions to help create a positive learning environment for all student groups. We believe that the changing nature of staff roles has an impact on the future development of staff grassroots leaders. Staff grassroots leaders may be fewer in number, see greater risk in involvement in change activities, or simply not be retained in the profession. Recent numbers (examining a ten-year period from the late 1990s into the 2000s) show a dismal 61 percent attrition rate for student affairs professionals (Boehman, 2007). For the grassroots leaders in the study it was a challenge to remain resilient due to the constant fear and anxiety of being visible change agents. Some staff created networks with faculty and students to bolster their power base but found even those relationships difficult to maintain over time, as faculty face the increased diversification of their jobs and a need to act more like academic capitalists. The tactics found in this book will help staff to create change, but future generations may be too overburdened trying to maintain multiple roles, as student advocates, revenue generators, and shields for negative publicity, to engage in proactive change efforts with or on behalf of students.

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r e com m e n dat ions for fac u lt y a n d s ta f f g r a ssroo t s l e a de r s In this section, we want to summarize advice from across the book about important ways to foster and support grassroots leadership aimed at the grassroots leaders themselves. The chapter on fostering grassroots leadership provides specific advice for administrators who want to support grassroots leadership on campus. We hope that the first section of the book on the significance of grassroots leadership provided reasons for administrators, as well as uninvolved faculty and staff, to consider ways to enhance the overall leadership capacity of campus by relieving systemic barriers that make grassroots leadership difficult. Here we help grassroots leaders consider how to improve their change efforts. Most of these recommendations are likely important for grassroots leaders across various organizations; the few that are education specific are noted: 1.  Motivation: It is critical to be cognizant of your motivation for being a grassroots leader and to reflect on this motivation so it is a source of strength and not a determinant. Passion and commitment provide the inspiration for successful grassroots leaders. They do not allow rage or anger, which may be part of their motivation, to overshadow their work. They deal with rage and anger in productive ways, working with others who have undergone the same experiences. Make sure to understand and draw strength from your motivation, and do not have it become a hidden source of dysfunction that can lead to the intragroup and intergroup strife very prevalent within our research. 2.  Identity: Successful grassroots leaders depersonalize issues as much as possible. Many of the issues that people pursue have a personal connection to the identity of the leader. Even issues that seem separate—championing problem-based learning—usually relate to the person’s own experience, such as going through school and not identifying with abstract approaches to learning. Most issues tend to be tied to identity, whether we recognize it or not. Like Meyerson’s tempered radicals, grassroots leaders need to recognize that attacks on their grassroots leadership efforts are not attacks on them personally or on their identity. If this balance is lost, moving forward in functional ways can be difficult. 3.  Resiliency: Resiliency is harder to come by than you may think. People often rely on a single source of resiliency and do not explore or use the plethora of internal and external sources of resiliency. We hope



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you can follow the example provided by Maria to maintain resiliency throughout the long struggle of being a grassroots leader and to draw on multiple sources of resiliency. 4.  Strategy: Be sure to understand the educational approach to strategy and to apply it in developing your grassroots leadership approach. Almost any issue can be related to the institutional mission and goals. For grassroots leaders in other organizations, there are likely similar health or public service approaches that can help enhance grassroots leaders within these specific sectors. 5.  Tactics: While we highlight nine tactics (organize intellectual opportunities, create professional development, leverage curriculum, working with students, hiring and mentoring like-minded activists, garnering resources, using data, and partnering with key external stakeholders) that can be helpful for the grassroots work of crafting and communicating a vision, raising consciousness, creating a network, mobilizing people, obtaining resources and support, and persuading—most grassroots leaders do not use the whole gamut of tactics. Experienced and successful grassroots leaders understand how these strategies work in concert, and it is critical for grassroots leaders to understand the breadth of tactics and how to use them in support of each other. Also, grassroots leaders who experience more success use a tempered approach; only when they meet an impasse do they use more confrontational approaches. 6.  Obstacles: Organizational obstacles for grassroots leadership have become significant in recent years. The constraints on the faculty role and autonomy threaten their ability to act as leaders. Staff also feel constrained, but many of their organizational barriers have a longer historical legacy, such as the division between academic and student affairs. Chapter Twelve focuses on ways to address the many organizational obstacles. Group obstacles need particular attention, as these are often the ones that thwart efforts as they are just getting off the ground. Careful early development of trust, relationships, and group dynamics is critical to the later success of the change. Individual barriers of emotional toll or overburdening are inherent challenges that most grassroots leaders face, which is why we pay particular attention to resiliency. Likely, obstacles vary by type of organization, and these recommendations are specific to higher education. 7.  Faculty-specific obstacles: The academy has changed in ways that make faculty grassroots leadership quite problematic, with increasing publication standards, pressures to obtain grants, fear to speak up before tenure, and increasing workload. Faculty leadership is increasingly difficult, and some faculty recognize this fact. Some are apathetic, some are concerned, some do not want to be leaders, and others are oblivious.

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More dialogue and attention to this issue are needed on campuses. This shift is happening incrementally with little involvement and understanding by many faculty. 8.  Power: Naming and seeing power are a challenge. For example, some forms of power require a great deal of investigation and analysis to understand, such as stalling tactics. Some grassroots leaders ignore power and approach change naïvely with optimism, but power conditions will likely become an obstacle if ignored. Others give in to power too much, believing they have to fight it tooth and nail, and it becomes their undoing. Our findings suggest that power is not to be fought, either. Power is to be navigated with analysis, strategy, and tactics. We offer a set of core activities for navigating power, including recognizing and naming power, flying under the radar, creating internal and external networks, developing coalitions, modest change, and reframing issues. 9.  Staff and contingent faculty vulnerability: Our study has demonstrated the ways staff, particularly those low in the institutional hierarchy, and contingent faculty experience tremendous oppression and backlash. Staff express great concern for their job security if their grassroots activities were to be made public. Tenure track faculty and higher-level staff need to recognize this issue and better support their colleagues on campus. Working in a coalition with these individuals is critical to their success and the health of the campus. Other organizations likely have employees in vulnerable positions, and these findings would be applicable. 10.  Leadership style: A tempered approach to grassroots leadership is more successful for achieving change and meeting goals. While we found that other approaches—such as confrontation—have their uses, they should be used sparingly. Grassroots leaders typically determine their leadership style based on their views of power. Views of power matter. Grassroots leaders need to reflect on their own views and how these may shape or influence the way they approach leadership. While views of power appear to be less malleable, as they are formed through people’s background and lifetime experiences, they may be altered through careful reflection. Several grassroots leaders in our study described the personal introspection they had undergone to rethink their views of power. 11.  Costs and sacrifice: While grassroots leaders face tremendous costs and sacrifice in terms of time, family obligations and commitments, and power conditions, those we interviewed mostly found ways to minimize costs through integrating grassroots leadership into their role through resiliency approaches and careful navigation of power. The narratives in Chapter Four speak to the various paths for minimizing



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costs and sacrifice. The stories of cost remind grassroots leaders about the importance of maintaining resiliency and not playing the martyr or savior. 12.  Patience and a long-term perspective: Grassroots efforts take a long time, as our many examples demonstrate. Unless grassroots leaders can take a long-term perspective and adopt patience, their commitment is likely to wane. Their impatience can lead to intragroup strife. Grassroots leaders need to savor the journey and not look for immediate outcomes. Otherwise, their motivation is likely to falter. 13.  Convergence: Grassroots leaders need to approach convergence with top-down leaders with caution. While merging with and working in concert with top-down leaders can broaden and strengthen the grassroots change effort, it has limited success and many challenges. Around one-third of grassroots efforts to converge with top-down leaders were successful in our study. Two-thirds had mixed results or failed. Therefore, we offer strategies to try to improve the success based on cases that were able to meet the promise of converging. We hope that grassroots leaders will carefully time their convergence, capitalize on opportunities, look for translators between the levels of leadership, sensitize those in power to the change, manage up, secure membership on key committees, use negotiation skills, create coalitions with other grassroots initiatives, and garner outside financial support. However, we suggest grassroots leaders approach this process with some skepticism. 14.  Skepticism or suspicion: Skepticism played an important role in helping grassroots leaders reflect before joining with those in positions of authority. However, we found grassroots leaders were often too skeptical on a variety of fronts. They demonized administrators, questioned allies, and even made members of their own grassroots leadership group constantly prove their commitment and allegiances. Skepticism dismantled many grassroots leaders’ efforts and, on the whole, may be more destructive than productive. Grassroots leaders need to be more open to allies and actively looking for people to support efforts rather than constantly questioning people’s intentions. 15.  Logic for success in today’s times: The stories of grassroots leaders who subvert the academic capitalist logic and discourse to further important goals and visions they champion help illustrate a path for being successful. The seven themes provide specific logic that other grassroots leaders can adopt to further their change agendas. Yet there is a fine line to walk between furthering a specific change initiative and adopting a logic that may be counter to the value system of the grassroots leader. In adopting this strategy, grassroots leaders must be very attentive to the ethical implications and engage in constant self-reflection.

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16.  Leadership development and mentoring: As a tactic and strategy, grassroots leaders need to think about training and socializing others to play a grassroots role more intentionally. Because of the long-term nature of this strategy, often grassroots leaders forget about bringing others along to play a leadership role in future movements. 17.  Administrative support for grassroots leadership: Interested individuals can support grassroots leadership by removing barriers that get in the way of faculty and staff creating change. They can provide autonomy and flexibility in workload, send faculty and staff to conferences and professional development, create campus networks/foster collegiality, develop policies to include non–tenure track faculty, encourage union leadership development, address lack of community and dysfunctional departments, create a culture where questioning is healthy, and foster mentors and role models. With faculty, it is important to remember that they prefer a guild approach that focuses on professionalism and allowing them to be in charge of their own leadership development. Administration should focus on alleviating systemic barriers, like workload, that hinder grassroots leaders. In other organizations, we imagine that support would play out quite differently as these organizations do not have the same academic history and traditions. 18.  Subgroups or organizations: The term grassroots typically suggests lack of infrastructure and being outside formal organizational channels. As a result, there has been little attention to any suborganizations or structures that grassroots groups form, such as committees, networks, or groups. We found a range of groups from more formal (staff task force, grant-funded project teams, diversity committees) to very informal (lunchtime groups or sets of colleagues and friends who meet). We did find that the more formal groups—those who set up networks or groups and held regular meetings—can become a target for institutional power and backlash. Grassroots groups need to think about how formal they should be, based on the minimum necessary to meet their goals, and carefully judge their timing when becoming more formal and organized. 19.  Relationship building: Across a variety of the findings presented in the book, relationship building can be seen as an underlying dynamic to successful grassroots leadership. Grassroots leaders maintain resiliency by building relationships with others. Working with others enhances their tactics, particularly as they create networks. To overcome many of the obstacles, such as intra- and intergroup dynamics, lack of resources, and even differential status within the institution, strong skills in working with other people effectively make the difference for building strong groups, gaining access to resources, and smoothing out



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status differences. Grassroots leaders like Justin, highlighted in Chapter Eight, navigate negative power dynamics through relationship building and often manage to minimize what could be devastating conditions that would uproot their change efforts. Relationship building helps minimize the costs and sacrifices. Even when people take an unpopular stand on campus, if they have built up relationships, colleagues or those in authority often provide them some leeway from outright backlash. The chapter on convergence with the top-down leaders also suggested that successful grassroots leaders spent time sensitizing those in power to the change and managing up, which are often ways of opening lines of communication and dialogue with others; they can result in relationship building. Throughout our findings we can see the importance of relationship building to the successful enactment of grassroots leadership. We note how relationship building is a key area for future research. f u t u r e r e se a rc h A myriad of areas need future research. We highlight areas that seem crucial to moving grassroots leaders forward and providing them needed information that can make grassroots leaders even more successful. One of the most significant areas in need of research is the issue of intra- and intergroup conflict among grassroots leaders. Intragroup conflict occurs when members of a group cannot resolve differences and the group splinters. Intergroup conflict happens when groups that should be allied on campus compete or work against each other. We feel that there is likely a connection among motivation, identity, and intergroup and intragroup strife. It appears that those individuals who had not dealt with anger or rage (often anger that is quite justified) as a result of discrimination or power conditions can create problems for groups. We did not examine this relationship in depth but believe it would be a fruitful area for future research. While we were able to demonstrate how power operates and to offer advice for navigating power, we were not able to develop similar solutions for intergroup conflict. Three issues hindered us from creating better insights. First, our study was not focused on the group level and did not follow groups over time. Second, those who experienced intergroup and intragroup conflict offered few solutions; they themselves had been unable to address the issue. Third, we as researchers were not grounded in intergroup theory, and our experiences as organizational and leadership researchers may have blinded us to theories and ideas for understanding intra- and intergroup strife that would have illuminated this area. We need research to

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focus specifically on the group level and study more members of teams and perhaps even follow them over time. We know that future research in this area will help the many grassroots leaders who described frustration and concern at not being able to address these issues. One area of recent research is on the social change model of leadership (Komives & Wegner, 2009). Because leadership within this model is conceptualized as collective and nonhierarchical, the issue of relationship building is central to effective leadership. Research on this model and practices outlined from social psychology in Komives and Wegner’s recent book may help to shed light on how to address intra- and intergroup strife. For example, the social change model points to the importance of building relationships within teams and groups at the very beginning and offers suggestions for how this relationship building can be done. Yet it is important that any study that focuses on the intra- and intergroup dynamics be embedded in an organizational perspective so that contextual elements that are likely to shape interpersonal interactions are not ignored. Intergroup and intragroup relations also became a major issue in the convergence between bottom-up and top-down leaders in our study. While bottom-up leaders had created many strategies for successfully converging with top-down leaders, few developed successful strategies for managing internal dynamics within the bottom-up team, such as intense skepticism or questioning the ethics of other members of the group. This area needs much more research and exploration, as it became a pivotal challenge that strained and destroyed many bottomup initiatives. The distributed leadership (Spillane & Diamond, 2007) model suggests that group interaction can be a major deterrent of more networked forms of leadership, and some of the concepts within this theory may be helpful within future research on how bottom-up leaders can help foster healthy within-group dynamics and overcome some of these challenges. A second major area in need of research is that of overcoming challenges in using the grassroots educational tactics: issues being watered down in leveraging committees, intellectual forums not moving to action, navigating the political minefields when curricular changes are attempted, finding students on commuter campuses or campuses where students are increasingly working and engaging them in change, sustaining momentum, or hiring criteria at research universities that make it difficult to hire like-minded change agents. For example, grassroots change initiatives, such as diversity, can be morphed when adopted by formal university committees that ultimately define the issues and choose the foci for the institution; in other words, when the grassroots effort enters the system, the system can change it. Another example par-



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ticipants noted is that when the tactic of intellectual forum is not acted on, a “classroom mentality” can develop where change is only discussed and never acted on. Also, sustaining momentum on complex grassroots change initiatives can be challenging because the length of time needed to make organizational change is misaligned with the short-term life span of committees and individual involvement in the initiative. These and other challenges associated with exercising educational grassroots leadership in colleges and universities warrant further study, given their probability of affecting the success of grassroots leadership by faculty and staff. A third area of research relates to the ways administrators and other interested people can support grassroots leadership. While we uncovered many ways to foster and support grassroots leadership, there were many challenges to creating support noted, which require additional research. For example, institutions need to examine the structures that inhibit department chairs from playing a role in fostering faculty as organizational citizens and the types of guidance and priorities that are provided to chairs for serving in this role. Some campuses lack faculty leadership or are experiencing massive retirements and will not have experienced mentors and role models to draw on. In these instances, they will have to rely on leadership development programs and consultants to build some of this initial leadership. Another area for research is how department chairs might provide rewards or incentives to grassroots leaders (whether in the form of a course release or of funding) without creating the perception of nepotism and the potentially resultant political environment. Another area that can be studied is maintaining a culture of openness even if a breach occurs (a person who is believed to be retaliated against for acting as a grassroots leader). If faculty and staff close down and distrust campus leaders, grassroots leadership is less likely to occur. Creating policies for non–tenure track faculty can make them more visible and might create tensions between tenure track faculty and administrators. It is important to further understand these challenges, which may hinder administrators’ efforts to support faculty and staff leadership, as well as understanding how to address them. We also need to understand what motivates different individuals (department chairs, deans, provosts, administrators, other faculty) to support faculty grassroots leadership. Each administrator has different levels of power within the organization and varying affiliation with the faculty and staff. Given that some administrators have created the conditions that are detracting from grassroots leadership, such as the rise in contingent faculty or decline of shared governance, it may seem counterintuitive that some would want to support faculty and staff

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grassroots leadership. It is important to acknowledge that the forces creating changes in faculty conditions are complex—some conditions have emerged from the faculty themselves, such as rising publication standards, and others have evolved from outside forces, such as academic capitalism. Further understanding of the motivations and reasons for why campuses and institutional agents choose to support grassroots leadership is important. Can administrators with power, who have helped create a situation where faculty and staff play such a reduced leadership role, actually support grassroots leadership? Why would they do so? Does it help if faculty and staff have a compelling vision or “big” idea that lots of people can support? Another important area for research might be studies designed to test and perhaps add to the findings of this study related to developing faculty and staff grassroots leadership. Faculty described informal learning processes as their preferred way to be supported and developed. A study might compare the efficacy and outcomes of two different models: (1) A formal leadership program; and (2) An informal approach through other colleagues. While faculty might prefer one approach, it may not have the strongest or most positive outcomes. The study identified many systemic barriers to leadership, policies, and practices to enhance grassroots leadership. Future studies might examine other barriers or practices that did not emerge because faculty and staff were not aware of conditions or they were less relevant on their campus. An ethnography of a campus that has fostered a great deal of faculty leadership might identify other values, practices, and policies that can be implemented or systemic barriers to be addressed to create more grassroots leaders. Also useful would be a study that identifies campuses that used different combinations of these practices, policies, and values and examines what the outcomes are for grassroots leadership. Also, the development of a culture conducive to grassroots leadership would help encourage understanding the efficacy of the strategies. While our research suggests that shared governance, faculty development centers or programs, and formal leadership development programs do not play a major role in fostering faculty grassroots leadership, it is important to continue to examine these three issues as they may be important in other contexts or other forms of leadership (particularly traditional faculty leadership for which these processes were designed). We imagine that faculty development centers have played a major role on certain campuses related to innovative teaching. We are personally familiar with colleges where leadership programs for faculty have developed a cadre of faculty leaders for positions as department chairs and division heads, as well as grassroots leaders. Some institutions may have



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more vibrant governance systems that operate at the departmental level and provide support for faculty leadership. These strategies are worth further study for grassroots leadership and traditional faculty leaders and for understanding circumstances where they might help foster faculty grassroots leadership. There are many areas for future research given the dearth of research in this area on grassroots leadership development in institutional settings. A fourth area requiring more research relates to power and grassroots leadership. While we have been able to provide many insights when it came to understanding power, the role of institutional context was not clear and needs further study. Campuses that are hierarchical with autocratic administration, fractionalized with many divided subcultures, and have limited or no shared governance led to a belief that power was held by a few administrators who would need to be directly challenged using a confrontational style. Simply, when the faculty and staff viewed the campus as having more hegemonic conditions, they adopted a more confrontational style. Grassroots leaders are less likely to be successful when they become confrontational—even on campuses with these harsh conditions. So grassroots leaders need to understand and appreciate what might bring out a confrontational style and determine ways to address this issue. However, the findings about campus context were unclear, so we need more study just to further understand this issue. Campus context emerged (although less clearly) as important to how individuals constructed their views of power as well as their specific change strategies. Yet more comparison and intentional selections of campuses varying on these factors might help to clarify more about the relationship of certain campus context features and how they might elicit certain styles of or approaches to grassroots leadership. In addition to context, we were not able to understand the issue of non–tenure track faculty and power as much as we would have liked. Our study included non–tenure faculty, but the non–tenure track faculty we spoke with often had a high degree of agency and did not represent the spectrum of contingent faculty. We did not speak with non–tenure track faculty who taught a single class or two—typically called “adjuncts.” We mostly spoke with non–tenure track faculty who had become full-time non–tenure track and sometimes then tenure track over time. More attention is needed to the broad range of non–tenure track faculty and how they must operate differently as grassroots leaders, as well as the additional limitations and challenges adjuncts might face. Also related to power, our study suggested that, as grassroots groups become more formal in terms of creating networks or groups or holding regular meetings, they may become the target for more institutional

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backlash than groups that stay under the radar. However, formalizing can help to expand or broaden an effort. We need more research on the tension between broadening the change effort and backlash and undoing the change effort as the change becomes more visible. Fifth, we need to examine the relationship between academic capitalism and grassroots leadership. Our data were mixed. In some instances, academic capitalism was a major barrier to grassroots leadership. Faculty and staff could not get the attention of their colleagues to join in efforts because they were distracted with grant- and revenue-generating projects. However, some faculty and staff subverted and used academic capitalism for their own grassroots leadership purposes, some intentionally and others less so. More research is needed to unpack the various ways in which academic capitalism supports, deters, and alters faculty leadership. While we presented tentative findings about the way faculty navigated the environment of academic capitalism by subverting the revenue-generating processes for their own ends, at other times this distracted them from grassroots leadership. At times, faculty worked around the constraints in their role as managed professionals, focusing on local changes within the spheres of influence they did have. Yet we did not go into the study to capture this phenomenon. We imagine that more detailed study could present more of the tensions, compromises, and problems that might emerge as a result of this approach. Sixth, we hypothesized that institutional context and culture would have a significant impact on grassroots leadership, and we analyzed our data looking for patterns and themes. We noted this assumption in the introduction and methodology chapter, but we found little empirical evidence. We found some minor threads that might be pursued in the future, which may prove more significant with more study. We described minor differences in use of tactics between various institutional types in Chapter Five. In Chapter Eight, we documented that campuses with a top-down management style—fractionalized campus and weak shared governance—tend to elicit a more confrontational approach among grassroots leaders. In Chapter Eleven, we focus on how the overall culture of the academy has changed, now embedded with market and corporate logic under academic capitalism and how this shapes some faculty and staff grassroots leaders. While this situation is not described in this book, an article based on the study found slightly different institutional approaches to the ways faculty and staff partner with students (Kezar, 2010). Some campuses have a culture that supports student activism in a range of activities and as equal partners; others tend to marginalize students to only diversity issues. Campuses appeared to split into these two different groups. Yet, to our own surprise, grassroots leadership is



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more similar across different institutional contexts and cultures than it is different. While we looked for institutional differences throughout the study, we came to find few meaningful differences existed. However, we think this topic needs further exploration. Seventh, relationship building seems extremely important across the finding, whether it involves tactics, overcoming obstacles, resiliency, convergence, or managing power dynamics. The first area of study of intra- and interpersonal dynamics looks at these issues of relationship building but focuses mostly on issues between and among grassroots leaders. Focused studies that look at the interaction and relationship building of those in positions of authority as well as of neutral others will also be significant in understanding how grassroots leaders can create change. Integral within studies of relationship building is the issue of communication. Many of our findings suggest that there may be miscommunication or lack of communication between those in authority and grassroots leaders. More studies that look at communication patterns between these groups could help in our understanding of the role communication plays in power dynamics, obstacles, and the like. Lastly, we believe it is important to examine the ethical issues that emerge within grassroots leadership. Some ethical concerns were raised in our study, but we did not pursue them in much detail. Recent studies discuss the importance of ethical guidance for higher education staff, particularly student affairs professionals who work closely with and hold a great degree of responsibility in helping students develop ethical principles (Reybold, Haix, & Jimenez, 2008). For example, what are the ethics of including students in the grassroots efforts, and how can the faculty or staff members create appropriate boundaries? What are the ethical obligations to an employer, and when does engagement in grassroots leadership activity violate obligations to the institution and employer? When might an act of grassroots leadership be considered insubordination, and is this ethical? We had many situations where staff or faculty were clearly acting in ways that could be considered insubordinate. When grassroots leaders work with the media or community members, what type of behavior is appropriate in terms of asking them to apply pressure to the institution? When is it inappropriate to ask another grassroots leader to join or continue his or her work, say, for example, if that other leader risks losing his or her job but has a dependant family? If you recognize that someone is falling behind in his or her work or taking risks that seem too severe, what do you—as a fellow faculty member or staff—do? When and how can you speak truth to power about oppressive behavior and bullying? If you are concerned about a person’s allegiances within the grassroots

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group, what is appropriate in terms of discovering that person’s true intentions and commitments? When does influence become manipulation, and what is the appropriate stance and behavior? While the list is long, these many issues arose in our study, and we note many of them in the text. However, these ethical considerations need further thought, study, and examination as grassroots leadership is fraught with ethical challenges, similar to most leadership efforts. Ethics and leadership go hand in hand. These areas of research may differ by organizational context, so it is important that ethics, power, or intergroup relations be studied in hospitals, corporations, and governmental agencies. c av e at s a n d conc e r ns In presenting our research about power in Chapters Seven and Eight and on convergence in Chapter Ten, we worry that some readers might misunderstand important lessons. We want to address some of the concerns we have about the narratives we presented and how they might be misinterpreted. We imagine that administrators and/or those with positions of authority may find Chapters Seven and Eight on grassroots leaders’ perspectives on power problematic and discouraging. Administrators who have encountered and experienced the confrontational perspective for years may feel frustrated that grassroots leaders cannot see their human side. Administrators wonder why grassroots leaders will not act in new ways they find more civil, and they are disappointed that grassroots leaders cannot see some shared institutional interests. This chapter could fuel their annoyance and reinforce stereotypes of petulant faculty and staff. Top-down leaders will perhaps too easily support our concern of the confrontational perspective and not heed our advice that sometimes it is necessary. We hope that our concerns about misinterpretations of this chapter are not realized. Instead, we hope that individuals in positions of authority recognize that these beliefs about power come from deeply ingrained and long-term experiences with authority and abuses by those in authority. We hope that, instead of taking these issues personally, top-down leaders realize that people may have experienced abusive situations, which led them to distrust those in positions of authority and approach change and leadership in particular ways. The tempered radicals who sometimes seemed to be manipulative may also trouble administrators. Instead, we hope that the persuasion and influence exerted by tempered radicals can be seen as a form of agency and an invitation to partner. When suggestions come from fac-



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ulty and staff—even if they seem a deviation from institutional priorities—administrators might see a possibility for change being proposed and some enthusiasm behind making the change. Lastly, those in positions of authority may feel that all these views of power (described in Chapters Seven and Eight) are limited and do not acknowledge the agency and empowerment that faculty and staff grassroots leaders possess. Administrators will recount stories of resistance to their change initiatives and tell stories of tenured faculty members over whom they feel they have never had any power or control. Certainly, it is true that, for the most part, many of the individuals we spoke with saw themselves as having more limited agency than did those in positions of authority. However, many individuals described a great deal of agency (particularly tenured faculty) but certainly recognized that real power conditions exist that they needed to be aware of. We hope that, as grassroots leaders reflect on their views of power conditions they face, they come to appreciate a more balanced approach represented through the tempered radical perspective—suggesting that they have agency and can affect and create change. We also hope that top-down leaders will try to encourage agency and voice among bottom-up leaders, even those they feel that they are in disagreement with. We hope administrators heed our suggestion in Chapter Twelve about the importance of facilitating contrary voices on campus as part of a commitment to creating a strong teaching and learning environment that represents more than managerial and corporate interests. Educational environments flourish when we can encourage and respect diverse views. In relationship to Chapter Ten about convergence, some readers may believe that the portrayal of top-down administrators as having separate interests from bottom-up leaders is exaggerated or unauthentic. Some may find our portrayal of faculty and staff grassroots leaders characterizes them as manipulative. Particularly, administrators, or those who have been in positions of power, may find it irritating that they are being played or persuaded by bottom-up leaders. While we worry about these stereotypes emerging from our depiction of the interaction of top-down and bottom-up leaders, we did not want to shy away from many of the unspoken perspectives and realities that exist on campus. What we are trying to demonstrate is that these responses are natural given the environment on college campuses. The pressures on administrators to focus on revenue generation, prestige, and public image from stakeholders such as boards, alumni, and parents often create differing perspectives from faculty and staff. These pressures can build an increasingly fragmented culture between top-down and bottom-up leaders on campus.

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Over time, and sometimes without conscious recognition, administrators may find themselves thinking in ways quite different from the way they did when they themselves were faculty or staff members. While some campuses have fewer of these pressures, interests may not differ as dramatically; generally we found the interests of top-down leaders to be distinctive from bottom-up leaders. Some may suggest that bottom-up leaders lack perspective and that, if they understood these pressures, they would compromise or alter their ideas about change. Grassroots leaders also should be aware of the pressures that top-down leaders face and compromise when appropriate. We suggest that meaningful dialogue between top-down and bottomup leaders might help create a shared vision that demonstrates an appreciation for both perspectives. We hope that this book encourages dialogue and thought among the faculty, administrators, and staff who make up the academic community about the direction in which we appear to be heading and whether this is desirable. However, because a shared vision did not seem to appear on most campuses we did want to demonstrate some of the proven tactics that bottom-up leaders can use to expand and deepen their efforts. We also want to make grassroots leaders aware of challenges that they may face. We are encouraging not manipulation but strategic behavior given the environment that bottomup leaders work within. The chapter on convergence might make you question the wisdom of grassroots models and harkens back to the days of more authentic shared governance (if such a day ever existed). While we hope for stronger shared governance models to emerge in the future, we are also not optimistic. Also, we believe that grassroots leaders need to always be fostered within organizational settings to encourage innovation, equity, and institutional consciousness. conclusion I believe that the activism we need most is not a specialized activity, but an outflow of everyday living. I hope that this book will speak to activists of that stripe—to all who work to speak truth to power in a world of great deceit, all who work as healers in a world of great suffering. —Loeb, 2004

We have come a long way from the Oxford model, where a community of the whole faculty led institutions of higher education. Even today, Oxford operates from a model that believes educators (be they faculty or staff) are central to the leadership and decision making of college cam-



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puses, but this idea is quickly eroding worldwide. What is lost when we move to a corporate model of leadership may be quite significant. For many years, colleges and universities operated as professional bureaucracies where the faculty, who know about teaching and learning, took a lead in the administration and leadership of campus. Likewise, managers far afield from the teaching and learning core—in facilities or business or alumni affairs—thought it important to be familiar with principles of education and respect the voice and input of faculty and promote their leadership. That is what the traditional professional organization entailed. While this approach may be disappearing in the move to a corporate campus environment, where administrators specialize in their specific tasks and faculty focus on teaching and are removed from decision making and leadership, it still may be a loss to the enterprise. The wider the gaps among faculty, staff, and administrators and the less they know about each other’s work, the more the potential grows for an environment that does not create a dynamic teaching and learning environment. That is our assumption, but it is an assumption that needs investigation—it is an empirical question to be addressed. While we have not studied the impact of the new corporate environment on the teaching and learning environment and student outcomes, instinctively, we feel that campus leadership, governance, and administration are moving in the wrong direction. While shared governance may no longer be possible in a competitive and global environment, surely administrators still need to understand and be connected to the educational mission, and clearly faculty and staff professionals need to play some role in the decision making and leadership of the campus. The struggle is to figure out what the new structure and process are; perhaps grassroots leadership is one such route—at least for a while—not allowing a purely corporate model to take over higher education. Whatever the current climate on campuses, though, this book highlights the value and contribution of the broader leadership capacity that should be harnessed among faculty and staff.

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; The literature on grassroots leadership is vast; therefore, we have focused on the literature that addressed similar phenomena noted within the tempered radicals framework and that were included in our study: motivation, resiliency, identity, tactics, strategy, style, obstacles, power, and leadership development. We organize the material in the book loosely by the three areas that are used within the tempered radicals framework for analyzing grassroots leadership: individual (psychological); group (social psychology); and organizational (organizational theory). We also familiarized ourselves with other concepts not reviewed here, including resource mobilization theory; ideology theory; social influence theory; intergroup relations; team leadership; various models of grassroots organizing, including the industrial areas foundation model; and empowerment theories that we used to sensitize ourselves to concepts that might emerge in the data. Some of these theories will be considered as we discuss the results. The literature on grassroots leadership covers a variety of disciplines, from sociology to social work, public policy, political science, business and management, development, ethnic and women’s studies, and a variety of interdisciplinary areas. Scholars describe very different stories and models of organizing, ranging from political interest groups to community organizing, nongovernmental organizations, unions, and women’s groups. Each of these types of grassroots efforts has slightly different emphases. In this Appendix, we highlight some commonalities across the various literatures we review on motivations, similar tactics used, notions of strategy, navigating power, and the like. Community organizing models might emphasize collecting data, listening to constituents, and asset building more than political interest groups that focus on using the media or coalition building. Yet across these very different examples of grassroots organizing and different theoretical traditions

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used to examine these issues are some common issues that we highlight. We also specifically highlight the few studies that have been conducted in higher education of faculty and staff activism; this is the closest literature base and helped inform the study. This section is not intended to be a comprehensive review of the grassroots literature, merely an introduction to frame the ideas of the book and to provide further ideas for reading. i n di v i dua l or psyc hol ogic a l e m p h a sis Researchers who study grassroots leadership from a more individual or psychological perspective focus on a range of issues: what motivates grassroots leaders; what makes them empowered to make change; how individuals from different backgrounds experience or shape grassroots leadership; the role of identity in grassroots leadership; how they maintain resiliency; what the characteristics are of grassroots leaders (for example, curiosity, imagination, humor); how they maintain commitment; how they interpret issues; how they face obstacles; and what their attitude and general outlook is over time. Meyerson paid particular attention to these issues in her study (2003) as she examined psychological obstacles faced by tempered radicals and the ways they maintained resiliency. In our study, we were also interested in resiliency, but motivation and identity intrigued us as well. We review these concepts next. Motivation Motivation is critical to grassroots leadership because people invest in activism when they are motivated to pursue a cause (Zander, 1990). In addition, change often occurs because individuals and groups maintain motivation to see an initiative come to fruition. Group members use motivation as a key lever to propel action, thereby illustrating the importance of individual motivation to progress. Motivation, therefore, is a fundamental concept to understanding grassroots leadership. Because grassroots leaders’ primary focus is not on gaining a position of power within the institutional hierarchy, the literature suggests different motivations for leading, from a personal passion, to focusing on self-interest, to a belief in fighting injustices (W. K. Kellogg Foundation, 2001). While the literature tends to emphasize grassroots leaders having a higher calling, it also suggests that people become involved based on self-interest (W. K. Kellogg Foundation, 2001). For example, many theories of political grassroots action and theories of union organizing are



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based on the notion that people participate because they can see their own self-interests furthered by the change (Robinson & Hanna, 1994). Mobilization theory has been commonly used to examine self-interest and motivations for participation in grassroots leadership efforts (Robinson & Hanna, 1994). Whether caused by a personal passion or self-interest, the personal connection to the changes grassroots leaders pursue can have both positive and negative consequences, as has been demonstrated throughout this book. The passion or self-interest provides energy and enthusiasm to continue the change over the long term, but the personal investment often makes the obstacles and barriers more difficult to face. Grassroots leaders can burn out and are more susceptible to psychological issues (Astin & Leland, 1991; Meyerson, 2003). Yet much of the literature on grassroots leadership also suggests a connection between that passion and/or self-interest and success. The more that bottom-up leaders have a passion and/or self-interest, the more likely they are to be successful, based on a strong commitment (Gamson, 1991). The few studies conducted of faculty and staff grassroots leaders identified these same reasons—personal passion and self-interest—but also uncovered other areas that seem more specific to educational settings. These areas of motivation include: conducting research uncovering injustices (faculty), being intellectually curious (faculty and staff), feeling duty as a professional (faculty and staff), and having a critical philosophy or paradigm (faculty). Studies have shown that faculty become involved when they witness inequities while doing research and have a feeling of reciprocity—wanting to give back to those communities in which one is involved for academic reasons (Astin & Leland, 1991; Safarik, 2003). Another motivation identified was intellectual curiosity or connection. For example, Allan and Estler (2005) found that faculty engaged in long-term discussions to change curricula because they are interested in opportunities to engage with colleagues around intellectual matters and desire to develop stronger interpersonal bonds with colleagues. A third reason identified is that faculty felt a sense of commitment to the academic program and department that resulted in a feeling of obligation and duty around curricular matters (Hart, 2005; Wergin, 2007). Other studies noted the impact of a paradigm or philosophical beliefs as reasons for engaging in grassroots leadership. Safarik (2003) found that faculty viewed their engagement in activism based on their feminist beliefs. The three feminist perspectives of liberal, critical, and dialogic feminism altered faculty members’ view of activist scholarship (challenging dominant paradigms versus broadening knowledge production),

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engagement in activism (direct protest versus working within the system), teaching (curricula that are based on disciplinary traditions versus interdisciplinary curricula), and community building (viewing the community as an extension of campus versus viewing the community as separate from academic work). Similarly, Allan and Estler (2005) noted that faculty engaged in curriculum revision because of a deeply held belief in the importance of preparing leaders for a democratic society, which would be accomplished with a focus on diversity. Paradigms, deeply held beliefs, and philosophical commitments specifically influence how faculty engage in grassroots leadership efforts. Their activities are grounded in and viewed from their paradigmatic influences, influences that often stem from disciplinary association (for example, in women’s studies or sociology) and graduate training. We examined the motivations, passion, and self-interest of faculty and staff grassroots leaders. While research currently exists on motivation, we examined how motivation is related to the overall grassroots leadership process. As we demonstrate in the chapters of this book, motivation becomes particularly important within the chapters on obstacles, costs, and resiliency because motivation often shapes the amount and type of obstacles and costs people are willing to face, as well as their resiliency. Identity and Grassroots Leadership Our study did not focus much on the individual identity of grassroots leaders. Yet motivation, power, and tactics are often related to identity; therefore, we briefly review literature about how identity shapes grassroots leadership. The importance of identity, particularly gender and race, has been examined in studies of grassroots leadership (Prindeville, 2003; Taylor, 1999). Underlying reasons for participating in grassroots efforts often differ based on people’s backgrounds and identity. For example, men might fight for women’s rights out of a feeling of injustice, while women are involved based on personal experiences with discrimination. These differences in motivation then sometimes translate into differences in behavior. Many studies of women grassroots leaders suggest that they use different tactics and have a different style from that of men, based more on consensus, consciousness raising, networks, and relationships. In terms of tactics, women are more likely to use consciousness raising because it creates change by helping individuals to see the way that dominant power structures create inequalities and to see for themselves how they are oppressed. Rather than develop an ideology (typical of male-led grassroots efforts) based on persuasion and often power, grassroots



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leadership within a feminist perspective allows people to see the need for change for themselves without applying power or pressure. Networking is also emphasized as an important strategy to create change. Feminists believe that one of the ways that dominant power structures remain in place is that information is often not freely shared and that marginalized people are often isolated from each other. Networking serves as a way to unite people and share information about collective concerns and may lead to more consciousness-raising (Astin & Leland, 1991; Safarik, 2003). Because women grassroots leaders tend to recognize the importance of relationship building, positive group interactions take priority. Much more attention is given to tactics for relationship building within feminist narratives of grassroots leadership. Feminist scholars, again, suggest that confrontation is not the best approach for navigating dominant power structures (Theodore, 1986). Instead, they attempt to create empathy within the broader public through consciousness raising. Also, negotiation strategies emphasizing win-win approaches are advocated and have been proven useful. Research also demonstrates the importance of understanding existing values and structures to create change. So an important strategy for navigating power structures is developing a detailed understanding of how they operate (Astin & Leland, 1991). Research from a feminist perspective also emphasizes individual’s identity as an important source of self-efficacy and knowledge, which can be translated into a skill set for creating change. For example, Brown and Ferguson (1995) found that women tend to be more aware of potential health effects of toxic waste and more skeptical of scientific evidence. While gender has been more thoroughly examined, research has also looked at race and ethnicity (as well as social class, disability, and sexual orientation). In terms of race, racial consciousness is often described as a motivation for participating in grassroots efforts. Scholars like Baez (2000) describe racial pride and identity as a characteristic of resiliency and agency. For example, Baez (2000) demonstrates how participation of faculty of color, in service activities and leadership that furthered students of color success on campus, was a source of critical agency that made them more committed to their work as faculty. It also helped them survive the often discriminatory environment of the academy. Race also affects the approach the grassroots leaders take. People of color ground their leadership more in the day-to-day experiences of local communities and the impact of racial oppression (Prindeville, 2003). Many studies also look at the intersection of various aspects of individual identity, examining how certain parts of individual identity become more prominent based on a person’s change agenda or certain challenges that he

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or she faces (Kezar, 2001b). A lesbian may foreground her identity as a woman when fighting for sexual harassment policy but her lesbian identity when fighting for gay rights. While we identify only a few of the ways that identity influences grassroots leadership, we simply wanted to highlight that an individual’s background and experience can shape how he or she acts as a leader and that identity plays a role, particularly in whether and how people take a tempered approach to leadership. Resiliency The severe consequences and challenges facing many grassroots leaders suggest resiliency is critical to sustaining efforts and creating change. Chapter Nine focuses on resiliency. Scholars have identified one of the main approaches as maintaining and fueling individuals’ passion (environmentalism, equal rights, and so on) to provide resiliency (Astin & Leland, 1991). Studies have shown that leaders who maintain focus on their goals and values and do not get sidetracked by politics, infighting, and resistance are those who maintain resiliency. Being clear about values and what is important to the individual or group helps leaders to feel positive about their work and leads to greater commitment. Research has shown that increased commitment enhances resiliency (Astin & Leland, 1991). Networking is also an approach to maintain resiliency (Astin & Leland, 1991). Feminist literature emphasizes that women tend to see part of their role in grassroots leadership as supporting each other, making sure that individuals do not get burned out, make too many sacrifices, and so on. Networking is not just an approach for creating change but also a method for support. Women leaders reach out to family and community members and create a sense of balance that keeps them from becoming overwhelmed by dominant power structures, challenges, and tensions they experience. Resiliency can also come from finding replenishment in art, culture, outdoors activities, and meditation (Astin & Leland, 1991). Certain psychological states, or attitudes, help leaders maintain resiliency. For example, optimism (a belief in a brighter future) and selfefficacy (belief in one’s own abilities to create change) help people to maintain resiliency (Astin & Leland, 1991). Also, belief in group efforts is another essential psychological state for engaging in grassroots leadership and maintaining resiliency. People who are skeptical that groups can work together and achieve a common goal will likely drop out or burn out over time. While these are just a few of the various conditions that lead to resiliency, they shed light on the importance of certain



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psychological states and actions that can be taken by leaders to sustain themselves and others through the long work of bottom-up change. While we understand generally how grassroots leaders maintain resiliency, we want to examine whether faculty and staff in higher education have developed unique approaches within the context in which they are situated. Other than the work from Astin and Leland (1991), very little literature exists on resiliency among faculty and staff. g rou p or so c i a l psyc hol og y As grassroots leaders begin to engage in the social world and move beyond their own motivations, they begin to interact with others. Social psychology theories that examine interaction take on increased importance. We specifically focused on the research on tactics and strategies used by grassroots leaders because this literature focuses on how people work together to accomplish goals. The grassroots literature is also replete with research on intergroup dynamics essential to understanding how people successfully can work together toward a shared purpose over time. Tactics The grassroots literature is helpful in elucidating and describing tactics1 that are unique and not described within the traditional, top-down leadership literature. Much of the traditional leadership literature concentrates on tactics used by those in formal power: offering rewards, creating management controls, mandating action, and the like (Kezar, Carducci, & Contreras-McGavin, 2006). In contrast, the grassroots literature describes consciousness raising, advocacy, empowerment, relationship building, collective action and networks, organizing, direct action (rallies, marches, and picketing), and lobbying as common tactics that are not given ample consideration within traditional leadership research (Bettencourt et al., 1996; Hoefer, 2000; Kroeker, 1996; Wittig, 1996). Some comprehensive models for grassroots organizing suggest ways that tactics can be used in concert (not necessarily in a linear fashion): creating a collective vision or ideology; moving toward helping to raise consciousness; working to empower others and creating agents of change; evolving toward more visible action and organizing through the creation of networks; mobilizing and building coalitions; garnering resources and lobbying; and taking direct action (Astin & Leland, 1991; Bronfenbrenner & Juravich, 1998). Studies suggest that piecemeal or

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isolated tactics work less effectively than a plan (even if it is organic) that helps to link strategies and advance the goals (Bronfenbrenner & Juravich, 1998). Grassroots leadership and social movement literature also identifies a variety of tactics that are alluded to in traditional top-down leadership literature but that are used uniquely among grassroots leaders on campus (Birnbaum, 1992; Kezar et al., 2006a). Leaders are typically encouraged to develop a vision, but the way that a positional leader, such as a college president, develops a vision and the way he or she uses it are quite different from the way that a grassroots leader would do this. For example, a grassroots leader may develop a vision with others in his or her network and use consciousness-raising techniques for individuals to personally develop a connection to the vision. Those in positions of authority typically develop a vision with their cabinet or team exclusively and work to disseminate that vision to others in the organization for implementation. Positional leaders rely more heavily on hierarchies and bureaucratic structures. Communication tools are also noted as important in both the grassroots leadership literature and the traditional top-down leadership literature (Bronfenbrenner & Juravich, 1998; Wittig, 1996). However, top-down leaders have access to different communications tools and resources for spreading their message (institutional and formal methods such as glossy brochures). Meanwhile, grassroots leaders need to rely more on word of mouth and e-mail. For example, when mobilizing people to action, those in positions of authority can host events and retreats with the promise of food and accommodations. They can also promise rewards and incentives for people who are willing to enact the change. Grassroots leaders are more likely to use informal settings to mobilize people, such as a regular brown-bag lunch. They are likely to appeal to people’s personal passions and identity to incite them into action. A few researchers have examined grassroots leaders’ tactics and identified how tactics may vary based on institutional context. For example, Hart (2007) examines the role of internal and external networks to create campuses that are more inclusive for women. Faculty used external contacts with the media or state legislators to create pressure for institutional change; this tactic seemed aligned with a campus where there is a more adversarial relationship between faculty and the administration. In contrast, on a campus with more collegial relationships between faculty and the administration, the women created prestige networks— getting close to people considered influential and persuading them to their cause.



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Building on the grassroots leadership literature, this study advances our understanding of grassroots leadership within the academy by examining the unique tactics enacted by faculty and staff pursuing organizational change within institutions of higher education, bringing invisible tactics to light. We also examined whether institutional context affected tactics, an issue that is alluded to in the limited literature available on the topic. In Chapter Five, we explore the tactics and strategies used by faculty and staff grassroots leaders to create change. Strategy Grassroots leadership focuses more on tactics or particular actions for creating change; strategy is less a focus as actions are often taken opportunistically rather than planned (Robinson & Hanna, 1994). Perhaps developing a broad strategy is more important in social movements because these movements often broaden to involve larger groups of people. As noted earlier, Meyerson’s (2003) framework argues that taking a tempered approach is a strategy that she identified among all of her study participants. The literature does note a few overarching strategies for advancing grassroots leadership that assist in explaining how strategy might be used. The Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF) approach to organizing involves several strategies, such as compromise, flexibility, and a pragmatic focus on action, that help them to achieve their goals (Alinsky, 1971; Robinson & Hanna, 1994). IAF is an international communityorganizing network established by Saul Alinsky to help foster community organizing by proving training, resources, and support among community organizations and nonprofits. In terms of strategy, compromise and flexibility are emphasized because a focus on a fixed ideology could lose opportunities, and they believe hard-and-fast principles can hinder forward movement. Also, IAF varies from other organizations’ grassroots approaches in its focus on action over principles. They perceive that some groups stand for ideas but never make a difference in the lives of people, and their strategy is to prioritize action and creation of change over ideals. Saul Alinsky’s (1971) book Rules for Radicals is perhaps one of the best-known texts describing strategy for grassroots leaders. He argues that power lies in collectives, not in a few individuals. To successfully garner and amass power and influence, groups must organize. No welllaid plans or policy will go anywhere without power. Alinsky describes several other core strategies (beyond collectives, organizing, and power),

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such as the need to provide a rationale for the effort—people have a basic need to understand and express what they are working for—and the need to engage in conflict. Conflict is another aspect of strategy, and Alinsky sees it as inherent in free and open democratic spaces and important for creating change. He encourages grassroots leaders to use conflict constructively. Faculty unions have used strategy to advance their goals in higher education. In the recent contract negotiations between the California State University system and the unions representing faculty, faculty created the slogan: “Their working conditions were students’ learning conditions.” They closely tied their efforts to create better working conditions to student outcomes that were critical to state legislatures and to the general public. They executed a broad campaign to get the message out about how their poor working conditions were affecting student learning, which then propelled many different community groups to create pressure on the legislature, forcing the administration to make changes in the union contract. The key strategy that the faculty used throughout their union drive was connecting working conditions to student learning. Related to strategy is leadership style. The grassroots leadership literature documents different styles—conflict or confrontational, consensus, and campaign—that are based on different philosophical views, identity, and beliefs about power (Checkoway, 1997; Robinson & Hanna, 1994). The conflict or confrontational style is based on an assumption that power is scarce and confrontation is necessary for redistribution. Those using a conflict approach assume that those in positions of power will not change unless they are forced to make changes. The IAF model incorporates the beliefs that power is unilateral and that the goal of organizing is to redistribute that power. The consensus style assumes that power is abundant and that people can dialogue and come to a relative agreement about how to share it. The consensus model is based on a belief that needed changes can be made by appealing to people’s humanity and common interests. The campaign style assumes that it is possible to persuade people toward a particular viewpoint (Checkoway, 1997). Persuasion is not necessarily based on common interests but on providing rational arguments or influential information that sways people’s perspectives. While power conditions remain, there is a belief that rationality will trump power. Literature suggests that there may not be a particular style that is more appropriate but that different styles are needed within different situations to fit different group or community needs (Robinson & Hanna, 1994). However, scholars suggest that different types of styles have fundamental repercussions. For example,



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many feminists reject the confrontational style used by grassroots leaders such as Saul Alinsky, which replicate the dominant power structure, believing that change should be created without replicating oppression (Astin & Leland, 1991). Within higher education, Hart (2008) studied faculty leaders attempting to make changes to improve the lives of women on campus. One group she studied used gentler tactics and everyday, ordinary politics rather than radical approaches; they perceived themselves as professionals first and feminists second. Their tactics were more conventional and included joining committees, shaping policy, taking on campus leadership roles, and trying to influence the administration. The second group Hart studied, who were feminists first and professionals second, used tactics that were less conventional and would include mobilizing informal networks or leveraging the media. However, they did so in “gentle” ways (or, as Meyerson would say, tempered). Other studies have followed more confrontational approaches taken by women activists. Theodore (1986) found that when women took more overt tactics, such as filing grievances, taking legal action, or stepping down from a position based on principle because they disagreed with the decision made, they were not very successful. These approaches led to them being labeled “campus troublemakers,” and this label affected their ability to be successful and shape the issues they cared about, threatening their legitimacy. However, the question about the impact of using confrontational approaches is largely unanswered, as these studies focused on a small number of activists and initiatives. We wondered about what faculty and staff thought about strategy, particularly as they tried to grow and enhance their efforts. We believe they might follow the approach offered by Meyerson because faculty and staff are in similar positions to tempered radicals, working in organizations where they are at odds with the dominant culture. Navigating Power Dynamics Another key issue that develops among and between people is the issue of power. Among the most common obstacles grassroots leaders face are power conditions and navigating those conditions (Gaventa, 1980; Theodore, 1986). The majority of the literature from grassroots leadership focuses on the existence of power conditions by illustrating case studies of backlash that occur to protests by grassroots leaders (Alinsky, 1971; Gaventa, 1980; Oberschall, 1973). Grassroots scholars document the use of physical power (force), material power (withholding resources), or normative and symbolic power (denying various benefits that accrue

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through participation and observance of particular normative rules) (Oberschall, 1973). Scholars document that negotiation is unlikely with groups perceived to be weaker in power; they experience oppression and physical assault instead. Some of the literature also focuses on grassroots groups as threatening the status quo and cites violence among grassroots leaders (Oberschall, 1973). Much early research suggested that confrontation and polarization (particularly from elites toward the grassroots groups) happened in more extreme cases and were less commonplace. Yet later analyses using Foucault and other poststructuralist lenses demonstrate the ways that power conditions are prevalent, including oppression, and can be used by elites against grassroots leadership efforts (Benford & Hunt, 1992; Brown & Ferguson, 1995; Morgan, 1997). Historical analysis is demonstrated to be important for understanding power conditions that do not emerge until later. Many ethnographic and historical studies shed light on complex patterns, relationships, and interactions that help us to truly understand the nature of power in grassroots leadership (Benford & Hunt, 1992; Gaventa, 1980). The grassroots literature offers some ways leaders can navigate power conditions, but this issue is given only minimal treatment. Given all the attention to power and resistance in the literature, the lack of research on navigating power conditions is surprising. However, many of the basic tactics and strategies of grassroots organizing center on and are connected with navigating power (Bettencourt, 1996). In other words, tactics and power navigation are heavily intertwined. The reason that grassroots groups form coalitions is to create a power base that will offset power dynamics from the top. Therefore, coalitions are a tactic to create change, but they also serve the purpose in helping combat pressures from the top (Alinsky, 1971). In addition, individuals organize or mobilize into collectives because larger numbers are better able to combat power. Consciousness raising combats oppression by turning people from apathy and acquiescence and by directly confronting power conditions that no dominant groups face. Therefore, as we describe strategy and tactics, it is important to see these areas as always connected to addressing power. Second, scholars offer specific approaches for navigating different forms of power that grassroots leaders encounter. An example is exposing an unethical stance held by dominant groups through reframing the issue as an ethical dilemma or problem. Also, practicing nonviolence in the face of power conditions is a helpful strategy for demonstrating the dubious nature of this activity. As Meyerson (2003) notes, confronting and exposing power conditions is a way to alleviate power conditions as other people become aware of behavior that is often invisible or ig-



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nored. Elites typically try to keep repression quiet and make information scarce. Grassroots leaders have used the media to expose inappropriate power conditions, and the media were a major tool during the civil rights movements (Oberschall, 1973). In addition to using outside vehicles to shed light on improper power conditions, grassroots leaders also turn to outside groups when repression occurs for support, resources, and guidance. Outside groups may be unions, nonprofit organizations, nongovernmental agencies, and other support systems (Gaventa, 1980). Depending on the power of the group or individual, two-way resistance may emerge where grassroots leaders react to the resistance by the opposition: then the groups are deadlocked in a power struggle (Zander, 1990). The problem with this issue is that navigating power becomes extremely difficult when both sides become deeply emotional and polarized. Groups with less power (such as a weak union) may not be able to exert enough power to get into a two-way deadlock and will merely be ignored or oppressed. So deadlock does demonstrate some advances by grassroots leaders. One of the helpful qualities of the grassroots literature is that it specifically conceptualizes power and resistance as part of the work of grassroots leaders and as intertwined with leadership style, tactics, approaches, obstacles, and resiliency. The tempered radicals framework does not explicitly focus attention on power dynamics. Within the grassroots literature, scholars examine power from multiple perspectives. For example, agency is a form of power and critical to influence and moving grassroots efforts forward. Moreover, the grassroots literature takes on the more challenging aspects of power, such as resistance to grassroots efforts and backlash and reasons for group acquiescence to power conditions (Gaventa, 1980). The grassroots literature also points to the difficulties of studying power—the necessity of understanding context, history, and multiple perspectives—in order to capture this complex phenomenon (Gaventa, 1980). We believed that faculty and staff grassroots leaders would encounter resistance and that one of the important lessons we could offer through the literature and our study is how to navigate these power conditions, which is largely missing from the literature. We also believe that acquiescence may be more significant within institutional settings, where confronting power conditions might seem counternormative. Because power dynamics are such a prevalent challenge, we devote two chapters to this topic—one focused on institutional resistance that grassroots leaders navigate and another one on how grassroots leaders interpret and understand power within their settings.

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org a n i z at ion a l t h e or i e s Grassroots leadership literature tends to deemphasize organizational theories and concepts because such leadership is generally seen to reside outside institutional contexts. Unionization literature is one area of exception. Some literature does focus on leadership development, particular the community development literature, as many grassroots leaders start small nonprofits and eventually examine institutional issues. In this section, we highlight the limited literature on organizational concepts from grassroots leadership. We relied more heavily on the tempered radicals framework for organizational issues, and we capitalized on our own backgrounds as organizational theorists rather than drawing on the grassroots literature given it had less to offer. Leadership Development While grassroots leaders often emerge organically, there has been more emphasis recently on the need to foster grassroots leadership and for systematic development, particularly for community development (Gray, Wolfer, & Maas, 2005; Kahn, 1991). Research on leadership development for grassroots leaders suggests they have very different needs from those in positions of authority. Development is more informal and evolves through apprenticeship and experience (Gray et al., 2005). First, grassroots leaders need to learn unique tactics and strategies to be prepared for the challenges of leading from the bottom. It is important to teach incremental tactics for change rather than overarching and high-impact strategies that bottom-up leaders typically cannot use. Second, they have to learn to develop strategies and approaches within longer periods because bottom-up change typically takes much longer (W. K. Kellogg Foundation, 2001). Timing also relates to learning patience and creating shortterm goals within longer-term change initiatives. Grassroots leaders are often isolated in their work, so helping them to create networks and build coalitions is extremely important (Gray et al., 2005; Kahn, 1991). Third, mentoring individuals on the institutional system is important because grassroots leaders are not familiar with decision-making systems and operations among those in formal positions of authority through which they might have a larger impact on changing the system. Forming coalitions and mobilizing people are essential for grassroots efforts; therefore, leaders need to learn about motivating people and providing them with a sense of agency (Kahn, 1991). Aspects of being effective at understanding motivation include being a good listener and



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developing good questioning skills to understand people’s motivations and interest (Gray et al., 2005; W. K. Kellogg Foundation, 2001). Some change initiatives require funding, and grassroots leaders need to develop skills in identifying resources that are outside typical operational funds within organizations. They need to learn how to identify grant funding or small pockets of institutional funds that they can leverage to create change. While we could continue with the many differences between grassroots leaders and those in positions of authority and their approaches to leadership development, we merely want to help people to understand some of the meaningful differences that we sought to explore further and to make those differences real and concrete within the higher education setting. The grassroots leadership literature, while collective in orientation, recognizes the importance of training and promoting leadership skills among individuals in the process. The tempered radical’s framework documents much more informal processes and does not emphasize leadership development. We wondered if collectives of faculty and staff thought about the importance of leadership development or some form of mentoring to build the capacity for leadership within the organization. Perhaps efforts are so informal that no such development occurs. We also wondered if there were ways to foster or develop faculty and staff grassroots leadership, and we address this issue in Chapter Twelve. Creating a Suborganization or Network within an Institution One of the major issues that unions address is the creation of a smaller organization within a larger organization; this smaller organization is aimed at creating a particular kind of change (Kahn, 1991). Literature documents how people advance from small and informal groups, band together, and mobilize to move toward more formal groups and organizations. The union model is much more structured than we imagined the groups and collectives would look like within the colleges and universities that we were studying. Yet this literature, particularly as it relates to the early formation of collectives, might more closely mirror the way faculty and staff might create structures (that is, academic departments and/or programs and student support centers) to support their work of change. Key issues in the literature on unions include the importance of understanding one’s constituency, being clear about the union issues and having a clear message, having mechanisms for recruiting and socializing members, creating the right type of meetings and procedures for the group, having communication strategies in place to

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reach members, and conducting research to understand the needs and issues thoroughly (Kahn, 1991). Social action group and social networking literature also look at the way people create networks (both formal and informal) within organizations with the goal of changing the broader organization. Social group theories have developed several key concepts and theories that are relevant for our study. For example, Zander (1990) identified how the method (goal, strategy, and tactics) of the group often shapes the formality of the group and how structured it becomes. Formal groups are small bureaucracies that function in a fixed manner (like a union), while informal groups are much more loosely delineated and have flexible characteristics. Informal groups might form within an organization to mentor underrepresented employees—they will have no formal structure, and membership might change from time to time. There are also in-between groups that have some characteristics of both formal and informal groups (Zander, 1990). In our study, for example, we found groups had formed into grassroots leadership teams that appeared to be blended structures. Zander (1990) found that if groups are going to use more confrontational or pressing tactics, then they tended to form more formal organizations; if they plan to use more tempered or permissive techniques, then they tend to stay more informal. Social action literature also demonstrates conditions that favor the formation of groups to address changes. For example, a condition that leads to greater organization is that existing people do not seem to be addressing a key problem. Another condition that favors creating groups is grassroots leaders being able to conceive a more satisfactory state of affairs. If organizations or communities seem too tied to the status quo, people may not believe change is possible, and grassroots groups are unlikely to emerge. Obstacles and Challenges The final area concerns obstacles and challenges. Because grassroots leaders are engaged with changing the status quo and dominant power structures, they face many obstacles and challenges. The literature suggests a host of obstacles: creating a shared vision among diverse people; managing relationships within the group; developing respect among very diverse groups of people particularly as coalitions form; forming agency and a belief in change among people who have often been disempowered; creating a persuasive and authentic message and ideology; and maintaining resiliency for long-term change (Norris & Cable, 1994). These obstacles and challenges, as illustrated in Figure 6.1, cut across the three areas of literature—psychological or individual, social psy-



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chological or group, and organizational. However, the grassroots literature has primarily focused on concepts from social psychology related to group interaction and also from psychology related to the emotional toll of grassroots work. Our contribution was to examine the experiences of grassroots leaders for organizational challenges overlooked because grassroots leadership takes place outside institutional settings. We detail three of these psychological and social-psychological challenges here to help introduce the issue expanded on in Chapter Six. First, there is a significant psychological and emotional toll for grassroots leaders. While the leadership literature has always focused on ways to sustain leaders and to help them from burning out, grassroots leadership literature focuses on the different ways that grassroots leaders are vulnerable. For example, grassroots leaders have often had to live with the fear that they may be killed at worst, or lose their jobs or livelihood at best. A major obstacle is navigating the emotional stress of dealing with these hardships. Second, grassroots leadership typically requires building networks, but many obstacles related to trust, common interests, and even agency (people feeling they can make a difference) can become obstacles (Norris & Cable, 1994). Building social capital and networks is essential for groups to capitalize on the collective talents to enhance their ability to be influential and make change. However, a common problem is balkanization—where members of the grassroots movement or individuals outside the effort isolate each other—which typically detracts from group success. Agency is extremely important for successful grassroots efforts, convincing people that the change is possible, and moving people from apathy to action. Yet creating agency among others is one of the most difficult tasks of grassroots leaders and is often experienced as an obstacle to group formation. Third, group processes and dynamics can be an obstacle to change. Most grassroots leadership occurs within groups or coalitions. Because leadership often takes place in groups, the dynamics and interactions of these individuals are important to successfully enact leadership and keep moving forward. The formation of group consciousness and solidarity is important for understanding groups, creating a shared vision and understanding in order to work together effectively as well as explore commitment and motivation. Various studies have looked at the role of framing among diverse groups as a way to gain commitment. Our study examined these various concepts from psychology and social psychology from the grassroots literature and introduced organizational concepts to grasp more fully the range of challenges and obstacles experienced by grassroots leaders within institutionalized settings.

Notes

chapter one

1.  Definitions of leadership have been contested widely over the years. Even as definitions have changed from trait, behavior, power and influence, contingency, cognitive theories, and cultural theories, there has been an underlying association between top-down authority and leadership across the various disciplines (and resultant theories) that have been used to study the concept (Kezar et al., 2006a). For an extensive overview of the various theories and definitions of leadership as well as a discussion tracing how top-down authority has remained central to most definitions of leadership in the last hundred years, please see Kezar and her coauthors, 2006a. This extensive literature review also provides the foundation for arguments made in this first chapter. 2.  There have been a few authors that offer less hierarchical views of leadership, such as Cohen and March (1974) or Bensimon, Neumann, and Birnbaum (1989). These studies contextualized leadership within the higher education literature on organizational theory and explored the limitations on formal authority through faculty professional expertise, dual authority structures (administrative versus faculty), goal ambiguity, organizational complexity, collective bargaining, academic freedom, and departmental power. 3.  Shared governance will be described in detail later in this chapter. The term shared governance refers to decision making in which responsibility is shared by faculty, administrators, and trustees (American Association of University Professors [AAUP], 1966). 4.  It is important to note that these research studies did shape and begin to change views of leadership, helping make way for the ideas contained in this book. 5.  While we introduce these terms here, they are described in greater detail later in the book. 6.  Currently, national and longitudinal data do not exist for staff input on decision making, making it difficult to understand this issue.

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7.  However, generational divides and the increasing heterogeneity of faculty complicate working collectively as a leadership group. In relationship to the generational divide, many campuses have a group of older faculty who are near retirement but may not retire for financial reasons related to the recent recession (AFT, 2009; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). Additionally, because there were retirements in previous years, there are a large number of newer faculty (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006). New faculty are increasingly diverse by race, ethnicity, gender, nationality, and other characteristics—leading to fewer common experiences and potentially more difficulty working in collaboration. Furthermore, new faculty are entering the professoriate with significantly different expectations for work–life balance (Gappa, Austin, & Trice, 2007). The new generation of faculty are more interested in creating separation between work and life; they value family and desire to start a family even while on the tenure clock or to take a contingent line to create balance (Gappa et al., 2007). Campuses are composed of faculty who differ markedly in their backgrounds, experience, and expectations of the academy. 8.  The tempered radical’s framework was developed by Meyerson (2003) and will be reviewed in detail in Chapter Two. Meyerson’s work draws on the literature about grassroots leadership that we review in the Appendix. chapter two

1.  A limitation of this literature is that documented grassroots efforts occur outside formal organizations among community groups and coalitions of interested parties. Also, grassroots leadership literature tends to focus on collectives rather than individuals. While we knew many of the initiatives we would be studying would be collectives of individuals, we also thought that some faculty and staff might be working more individually; in particular, faculty in higher education often work more independently. 2.  As a reminder, grassroots leadership is defined in social movement literature as the stimulation of social change or the challenge of the status quo by those who lack formal authority, delegated power, or “institutionalized methods for doing so” (Wilson, 1973, p. 32). Grassroots leadership is a nonhierarchical and often collective and noninstitutionalized process. Leaders are typically volunteers and not hired or employed to lead efforts. Grassroots leaders are distinctive from those in positions of authority, who tend to have a structure in place to enact leadership through rewards, establishing employee positions and responsibilities and delegating authority. Those in positions of authority also have a formal network of people who are conducting the same work. Grassroots leaders typically need to create their own structure, network, and support systems. chapter six

1.  One could argue that many of the organizational obstacles reflect general changes not specific to education-rise of contingent labor, increase and focus on



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revenue generation, increased productivity standards. Many of these are part of the general changing work context. chapter seven

1.  We already defined power dynamics, power, influence, and authority in Chapter Two. Here we elaborate on power to note that some scholars have described how power is context and relationship specific, and we adopt this same stance, which is why we analyze how the institutional culture and structure might have an impact on power dynamics (Pfeffer, 1981). Thus, the way people express power as well as power dynamics between individuals will likely be shaped by the institutional context. Also, we provide a definition for oppression. Oppression, according to Prilleltensky and Gonick “involves institutionalized collective and individual modes of behavior through which one group attempts to dominate and control another in order to secure political, economic or social-psychological advantage” (1996, p. 15). Though power and oppression have similar definitions, oppression is always characterized by domination and the ability to take away resources and livelihood, while power may use persuasion, inducement, and other less-abusive forms of control. 2.  Backlash is a negative reaction when something gains in significance. 3.  While certainly there are other authors and literature that we could review related to power, these two literature bases capture two of the main ways that power dynamics have been examined within organizations. They also captured much of the way that people discussed power dynamics in the interviews so they were helpful in framing the issues. While scholars such as French and Raven (1960) and Etzioni (1964) have developed typologies of sources of power (including referent or charismatic, expert, legitimate, reward, and coercive, former or coercive, calculative, and normative, later), the dynamics described by interviewees reflected coercive forms of power rather than, say, reward, expert, or even charismatic power in interacting with grassroots leaders. 4.  Administrators refer to central, upper-level administrators who have delegated authority from the college board and who have authority over campuswide decision making. Department chairs are generally not considered part of the administration as we define it, and on some campuses only deans would be. On the nonacademic side of the house, we are referring to high-level vice presidents. 5.  The issue of how much authority faculty and staff possess is debatable. Officially, faculty and staff have no authority (Birnbaum, 1988). Organizations such as the AAUP have argued that faculty should be at least advisors as part of shared governance and have delegated authority for certain areas, such as curricula. Some campuses observe the recommendation for shared governance as a principle. Most campuses do not have shared governance beyond an advisory capacity (which means not true authority). Therefore, the authors acknowledge there is no absolute statement that can be made about authority, but, generally, faculty and staff have no formal authority on most campuses as it relates to overall campus decision making related to budget, enrollments, or operational

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functions. Faculty have autonomy as professionals, and this provides discretion and some level of informal authority particularly related to their own teaching and research. The Yeshiva court case (1980) found that faculty were managers within the institution because they have input into many institutional decisions from hiring, admissions, and evaluation. Yet this type of involvement can be easily taken away from faculty. Because of recent trends in terms of decline in decision making within faculty ranks, it is unclear whether the findings of this case are meaningful anymore except at a small set of institutions where faculty have maintained a connection to the authority structure. Meyerson’s study notes that ultimately all employees have agency and some informal discretion and power (which is different from formal authority). We are not suggesting that people do not have informal authority and agency, merely that they do not have formal authority. Not having authority is different from not having power or influence. 6.  Many different hierarchies exist on campuses. For example, academic affairs often tend to have greater status than student affairs. Faculty in the sciences have more power than faculty in the arts. There are many different power relationships that might emerge and shape grassroots leadership. 7.  Within the diversity cases that we studied, there were additional forms of oppression specifically related to racism, homophobia, classicism, or sexism. While we do not specifically engage all the dynamics of oppression related to diversity initiatives in this chapter, we address these in other articles related to the project. Addressing these dynamics is quite complex and requires a whole other set of conceptualization and more data to fully represent the issue. chapter ten

1.  Readers may want to review the growing literature on distributed leadership, in the K–12 literature, that looks at the connection between various levels of leadership within the organization. This literature also tends to take a less hierarchical perspective (see Spillane & Diamond, 2007). 2.  For more information about grassroots groups within organizations and the process of co-optation, see Selznick (1949). Selznick defines co-optation as the process of absorbing new elements into the leadership or policy-determining structure of an organization as a means of averting threats to its stability or existence. His book looks at the power dynamics between grassroots groups and formal authority structures and examines co-optation as one mechanism or process by which an institution protects itself. 3.  We acknowledge that faculty at the institution may also have been reacting out of sexism to a woman president. Therefore, it is problematic to separate the difficulty in converging from sexism among faculty toward a woman in power. This case points to other issues and complexities that can emerge in convergence. The strategies for addressing the sexism would be slightly different than a reaction only to bottom-up leaders and a controversial science reform. We focus on the issue of bottom-up leaders with a controversial science reform as there are other data on addressing institutional sexism.



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chapter thirteen

1.  Certainly there is literature about power within institutional settings, but it is not focused on grassroots leaders or bottom-up change agents. Our contribution was to focus on this specific area. 2.  This trend would be different in elite institutions that are less likely to unionize. appendix

1.  A tactic is a method for achieving a goal, while a strategy is an overarching principle that is applied to the various tactics.

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Index

Academic capitalism, 11–14, 28, 88, 122–127, 146, 250–264, 278, 285, 289, 291–299; future research on, 308–310. See also corporatization; managerialism. Activism, 10, 23–24, 112, 124; direct activism, 136, 196, 282 Administration, 17, 23–26, 57, 92, 113–114, 116–117, 119; divisions with faculty and staff, 196–198; merging with bottom-up leaders, 227–264; obstacles, 125–128, 131, 139; power dynamics, 152, 155–156, 158–176; relationship to grassroots leaders, 324–326; supporting grassroots leaders, 266–315 Astin, Helen, 4, 8, 10, 23, 47, 149, 151, 178, 199, 288, 319, 321–323, 327 Authority, 4–7, 17, 21–24, 114, 118, 127, 130–131, 147; partnering with those in, 227–264; 272, 281–282, 285, 287–290, 296, 311; power conditions and, 148–176, 178, 180, 182–183, 187, 190, 195–196, 228; skepticism of those in, 303, 311–312. See also power. Case study, 11, 27, 44–52; introduction to case institutions, 56–66 Corporatization, 11–12, 51; grassroots leadership within a corporatized campus, 250–264. See also academic capitalism; managerialism. Classrooms, 87–88, 100, 106, 109–111, 120, 256. See also curriculum.

Coalitions, 23, 100, 104, 111–112, 126, 129, 134, 155, 164, 165, 167–169, 172, 188–189, 191, 233, 238, 242, 283, 302–303, 323, 328, 330, 332–333. See also networks. Community partnerships, 11, 46, 59–60, 66–67, 71, 117, 157, 164, 187, 193, 263, 275 Convergence, 23, 26–28, 44; strategies for, 48–49; 99, 227–249, 293, 296, 303, 306, 311–313, 314. See also partnerships. Curriculum, 8, 14, 19, 24, 26, 75, 76, 78, 84, 87–89, 97, 100, 108, 109–110, 188, 120, 121, 125–126, 130, 132, 157, 162, 175, 233, 238, 240, 243–245, 247, 251, 255, 260, 283, 297, 301, 320. See also ­classrooms. Data, 73, 76, 85, 88, 92, 97, 100, 104–106, 111–112, 114–115, 119, 158, 172, 174, 221, 230–231, 237, 239, 240 242, 256, 268, 301 Ethics, 306; working with students, 112 Faculty; change or expansion of faculty role, 13, 122–124, 127–129, 134–135, 269–270, 273–274, 280, 285, 289, 301; oppression of, 156–157, 159, 165, 289, 302; as participants in study, 76, 309; policies to support, 279–280; rise in contingents, 13–14, 22, 122–123, 129–130, 251, 270, 285, 307

350

Index

Governance, governing boards, 24, 280; shared governance and decline of, 5–7, 12–16, 18, 21–25, 42, 48, 59, 115, 122–124, 152, 180, 196–198, 267, 270, 291–292, 294–298, 307–310; strategy for convergence, 231–232, 253, 269 Grassroots literature, 31–32, 41–43, 104–105, 122, 149, 292–294, ­appendix Group formation, 40, 42, 333 Hiring, 42, 100, 102, 104–106, 112–114, 168, 171, 192–193, 195, 240–243, 247, 267, 269, 301, 306 Identity, 33–36, 40–41, 71–96, 292, 300, appendix; future research, 305; related to power, 181, 192; resiliency, 201, 212 Influence, decline of faculty due to shared governance decline, 24–45, 232; definition of, 41; hierarchical, 5–7, 150; multilevel, 7–9, 167–169; strategy, 86, 89, 100, 114–116, 186, 188, 190, 195, 242, 247, 251–253, 310, 312–313 Intellectual forums, 98, 100, 306 Interest; conflict of interest, 112; corporate interests, 12, 18, 22, 25, 102, 152, 296; differing interests, 182, 243, 248–249; group interest, 112–113, 115–116, 137, 163, 167–169, 213, 240, 291; individual grassroots leaders, 71–96, 143–144; public, 11, 79; shared interests, 22–24, 172, 186, 242, 312 Intergroup dynamics, 135, 141, 289, 300, 304–306, appendix Leadership development, 20, 28–29, 40, 42, 268, 275, 279, 292, 304, 307–309, appendix Leadership style, 27–28, 33, 139, 177–198, 293, 302, appendix Managerialism, 11–12. See also academic capitalism; corporatization. Managing up, 231–232, 239, 242, 248, 305 Mentoring: strategy for change, 97–98, 100, 104, 106, 110–112, 120, 185,

189, 195, 241, 301; support grassroots leadership, 20, 267–268, 277, 283–285, 292, 304. See also leadership development. Meyerson, Deborah, 4, 25–26, 29–44, 53, 98, 120, 123, 141, 149, 170, 178–179, 185, 200, 291–292, 300 Motivation, 71–96 Navigating power: building bridges, 165, 168–169, 188–190; creating networks, 100, 113, 167–168, 191, 278, 309; developing coalitions, 126, 164–165, 167–168, 188, 302; flying under the radar, 164–166, 185, 247, 292, 302; modest changes, 32, 35–36, 165, 170–171,189; recognizing and naming power, 169–170, 191, 302; reframing issues, 165, 171–172, 189, 302 Negotiation, 32, 34–36, 39, 94, 99, 111, 168, 188–190, 232, 240, 283, 292, 303 Networks, 42, 78, 85, 89, 104, 111, 115, 126, 164–168, 200–201, 212–215, 259, 266–268, 276–278, 298–299, 304, 323. See also ­coalitions. Obstacles: group, 121–122, 134–141, 301; individual, 121–122, 124, 141–146; organizational, 26, 53, 121–122, 124–134, 301 Organizational culture, 30, 34, 37, 39–40, 45, 48, 102, 104, 122–124, 132–133, 152–153, 180, 215–216, 250, 257–259, 267–270, 308–311 Organizational structure (institutional structure), 7, 28, 37, 42, 51, 62, 116, 126, 228, 250 Organizational theory, 7, 317, 335 Partnerships, 11, 13, 46, 117, 164, 193, 222, 250–252, 254–257. See also ­convergence. Policy, 17–18, 55, 107, 110, 148, 152, 250, 267, 270, 290–291, 294, 322, 327 Power, ix, x, 4, 6–9, 15–18, 22–23, 25, 34, 39–42, 53, 101, 125–126, 130, 148, 151, 154, 177, 180, 195,



Index

201, 230–231, 236, 255, 288, 302, 312–314, 320, 326–329. Power dynamics; controlling, 23, 57, 148, 154, 159–160, 167, 170, 173–174, 196, 289; microaggressions, 148, 150, 154–155, 161–164, 170, 281; oppression, 23, 26, 148, 154–157, 167, 173, 195, 289, 302, 321, 327–328; silencing, 148, 150, 154, 157–159, 161–162, 170, 174, 289; stalling tactics 148, 154–155, 160–161, 167, 170, 173, 302 Productivity, 74, 113, 124, 146, 251, 254, 256–258, 292, 294 Professional development 22, 100, 104–109, 119, 168, 201, 213, 268, 275, 277, 283, 301, 304 Psychological theory, 306, 317–318, 323, 333 Relationship building, 41, 100, 124, 134, 136–137, 139, 144, 248, 304–306, 311, 321, 323 Resiliency: extrinsic, 201, 212, 215–216; intrinsic, 201–202, 209, 216 Resources: financial resources, 62, 256; grants, 12–13, 62, 74, 97, 105–106,

351

113–114, 119, 126, 145, 164, 233, 238, 250, 252–254, 273, 280, 301; human resources, 35, 92–93, 102, 136, 159, 280 Skepticism, 62, 132, 229, 233, 235–236, 240, 243, 247, 303, 306 Social entrepreneurship, 264, 290–291 Social movement theory, 29–30, 280 Staff: division of academic and student affairs, 8, 47, 60, 60–63, 122–123, 124, 130–131, 134, 146, 168, 172, 207, 270, 273, 276, 278, 298–299; vulnerability, 94, 302 Stakeholders, 5–6, 17, 21, 100, 104–106, 117, 126, 172, 299, 301, 313 Strategy, 39–42, 97, 101, 256, 301–304 Students, 19–20, 100, 104–106, 110–112, 168, 171, 202, 299, 301, 310 Systems approach, 37 Tactics, 10, 31, 39–42, 97, 100, 106, 229, 254, 301–304 Tempered radicals framework, 23, 29–30, 32, 47, 53, 292–293, 317