T ufts recently announced a $32 million operating surplus, marking a more than 700 percent increase from the previous fiscal year. As a non−profit institution that costs well over $50,000 a year to attend and has suspended need−blind admissions, we should be troubled that there is ever a substantial surplus.
News like this muddles the distinction between the ends of our university and those of the controversial "for−profit" colleges. Universities like Tufts engage in many practices that mirror the cost−efficiency focus of corporations, while simultaneously enjoying significant tax exemptions and flaunting a proclaimed moral purpose. As an institution, we need greater transparency and a better focus on student and employee needs, or we should relinquish our claims to a public mission and our property−tax−exempt status.
In an effort to cut costs, Tufts recently switched janitorial service providers, from American Building Maintenance to UGLUnicco. Though the contract required the new provider to extend job offers to all janitors who were working under the old contract, it seems unlikely that a provider being paid less by Tufts will be able to maintain equivalent workforce, wages and hours for a lower overall price. The university has professed a commitment to ensuring quality treatment of these workers, and yet its actions illuminate the reality that budget, rather than principles, are driving administrative decisions.
Tufts' reliance on adjunct professors and part−time faculty is further evidence of cost−cutting strategies at the expense of worker conditions and student education. Adjunct professors earn significantly less than tenure−track professors and, for those teaching less than three classes a year, receive no benefits. They are often forced to split time between multiple colleges, meaning less availability for students and overstretching commitments. The university has voiced intentions of hiring more full−time staff members, but certain departments, like the Department of Sociology, depend heavily on adjuncts. The justifiable anger articulated by English department lecturers last year at the inhibiting scale back of office space underscores a disregard for such indispensable elements of our success.
On the student side of the equation, the lack of a need−blind admissions policy demonstrates the financial lens through which we view prospective students. If we refuse to consider financial hardship as a factor favorable to admission, then it should never hurt applicants' chances of admission either. Reinstating need−blind admissions needs to be at the forefront of any sort of financial decision the university makes.
Tufts' financial decisions have enabled the university to skirt much of the accountability and criticism that should be part of a public discourse, and the administration has openly shown its preference to keep these operations in the shadows. Earlier this year, state legislation was proposed that would require increased disclosures on matters like the value of investment and property, and information about faculty with salaries exceeding $250,000. Tufts opposed the bill, claiming the adequacy of the current practices and that such transparency would provoke harmful effects. We cannot continue our pretense of philanthropic motives and active citizenship if we have reason to conceal the decisions made in the financial realm.
It's not irrational for the university to make choices that yield gains, but universities have a unique liberty to operate outside of these strict profit−driven analyses, and with it, the responsibility to make decisions that fall beyond of the realm of economics. The assessment of costs and benefits that help Fortune 500 companies thrive should not be the same as our university policies, and we need to be shown tangible evidence that our students and staff are truly our bottom line.
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Amanda Johnson is a senior majoring in international relations. She can be reached at Amanda.Johnson@tufts.edu.
