I'm a car guy. When I was a toddler, I used to wash all the cars in the neighborhood for free just so I could examine the curves in their sheetmetal and the gleam of their alloys. When I was six, I used to pretend that an old refrigerator box was a Volvo station wagon. I feel a bizarre emotional attachment to the automobile, and that's why I felt some sadness after the demise of the oldest car brand in the United States. After 106 years, the last Oldsmobile rolled off the production line in April of last year. Really, who could blame GM for pulling the plug on Oldsmobile? I mean, when asked to give an example of automotive excellence, the Silhouette minivan is not usually on the tip of my tongue. Oldsmobile had become redundant, their cars simply rebadged examples of autos that other divisions of GM did a better job at selling. Why spend the money on a Bravada if you could get a Chevy Blazer with all the same features?
Rather than completely reinventing the Oldsmobile division, GM decided to strengthen other products in their line. So they shut down Oldsmobile and invested the surplus resources in their other brands, much to the benefit of the entire company.
Tufts is a lot like Oldsmobile without curb feelers and generous lease terms: what we have to offer could only be improved if it were offered by another school. Just like GM has a division for everyone, Boston has a school for everyone. There's Harvard for kids too smart to go elsewhere, MIT for future millionaires, Emerson for those with unnatural hair colors, and BC for Irish kids with ten siblings.
And then there's Tufts.
I find it very curious that PT Barnum was an early trustee of Tufts. The man made his millions by charging admission to see a monkey sewn onto a fish that he claimed was a mermaid. Investing in the umpteenth private school in New England and building it within sight of Harvard had to give good ol' Phineas many a chuckle. If he could only see it now! At least then we had a Unitarian divinity school to set us apart from every other college. When that closed, Tufts became the ultimate redundancy.
Sure, we have a ton of great programs. Among others, the vet school, the nutrition school, the Fletcher school, the public health program, and the dental school are all world-class standouts. Those great programs, however, lose out when they're executed by a school with such meager resources.
Part of the greatness of schools better than Tufts is that they are surrounded by an aura of greatness. In the car industry, they call this the "halo effect." Chevy's marketing department hopes that the halo surrounding the Corvette will shed a little light on the Impala and attract those who are interested in the 'Vette but who need a family friendly five-seater.
University halos include world-class museums, groundbreaking theater programs, Nobel lauriate professors, and alumni who are world leaders. Schools with these halos attract great students and faculty, media attention, and most importantly, donors. As a result, the school can afford to grow even greater.
Think about it. If you were a wealthy, old-money businessman in Boston who wanted to get his name on a building, would you donate to the school with the stellar reputation, or the school with a few shooting stars? Do you want your donation to be on the front page of the Globe or somewhere on page three of the Tufts Daily? That's why Harvard has Cabot House, while we have a building named after the guy who founded Cabot House Furniture.
After a few years and $25 billion, the halo brightens even more. Stellar schools keep gaining donations and outstanding faculty, and their great programs grow ever greater. Tufts languishes, and our redundant programs stagnate and are eclipsed.
With no offense to our fair Jumbo, I propose something truly radical and corporate in nature. Hold on to your seat-desks, folks. I propose that we close Tufts and sell each stellar component to the highest bidder. It'd put an end to the redundancy, and strengthen education as a whole.
Think of how much more efficient it would be if our psych department, for example, ws in another school. Our provost wouldn't have to rack up the miles on his car driving to Dartmouth to borrow their fMRI machine, and Dartmouth would re-gain his research. Imagine the opportunities for students if the Fletcher School became part of the Kennedy School. The marketplace of ideas would expand incredibly. Picture what could result from the combination of the dedication of our engineering professors with the resources of MIT, or what our language students could gain from a school that offers Portuguese.
Instead of trying to do more with less, Tufts has the opportunity to become less and offer more. Our faculty are certainly competent enough that they would be retained. Our best programs could only benefit the schools that pick them up, and our worst programs could only be benefited.
GM knew they couldn't re-invent the wheel by sticking an Oldsmobile hubcap on it. Tufts should realize the same, and if you don't agree with me, you can e-mail me at kbarry@fas.harvard.edu.
