U-Censorship

By Monica Cambell Published: December 6, 2007

Cholula, Mexico

On the evening of January 17, Monica Cruz, an editor at La Catarina, the student newspaper here at the University of the Americas-Puebla, scrambled to collect her personal belongings. A few steps away, padlocks in hand, campus security guards and administrators stood ready to shutter the newspaper.

They were under order of the university's administration to block publication of La Catarina, which had gained a reputation as an independent voice during its six-year tenure at this elite, private liberal-arts university.

"We asked why they were doing this," Ms. Cruz recalls. "We felt like criminals."

For La Catarina's many supporters, the answer was obvious: The newspaper had taken on the university's increasingly unpopular administration and its rector, Pedro Angel Palou GarcÃa.

Now, nearly a year later, the university is finding that its list of enemies has grown, and that many people on the campus and off are raising uncomfortable questions about its leadership and financial management.

The stakes are high. The University of the Americas-Puebla is one of the most respected higher-education institutions in Mexico and has substantial ties to the United States. It is accredited by the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, has received more than $20-million from the United States Agency for International Development, and has been a study-abroad destination for students from more than 20 U.S. universities.

SACS, as the accreditor is known, placed the institution on warning last December and will announce this month whether this past year's turmoil has affected its standing further. American colleges are either placing their agreements with the university on hold or considering doing so. And USAID has not given any money to the institution since Mr. Palou came to power.

Perhaps most significantly, in Mexico the university's reputation has taken a beating. A number of academics have signed petitions and published letters in national newspapers questioning the university's administration, citing concerns over freedom of expression. The university declined to provide figures, but professors and students say enrollments have dropped off substantially.

The irony in all this is that many of the changes taking place at the University of the Americas have been driven, reportedly, by a desire to make it more profitable.

'A Corporate Venture'

The university's senior administration, including Mr. Palou, who recently stepped down to take a temporary research position at a university in Paris, declined requests for interviews. Members of the Mary Street Jenkins Foundation, a private, family-run organization that owns the university's land and has served as the institution's main source of funds for decades, did not respond to e-mail messages and calls from The Chronicle. But many current and former faculty members and students agreed to speak about what has happened on the campus in recent years.

Academics here say the changes began a few years ago. The Jenkins foundation's new generation of leaders, descendants of William O. Jenkinsâ€"sometimes called the John D. Rockefeller of Mexicoâ€"have business, not academic, backgrounds, academics note, and foundation members hold every seat on the university's governing board.

"They see the university as a corporate venture, not as a center to promote first-rate investigation," says Edward Simmen, professor emeritus at the university and its official historian.

Troubles began from the start of Mr. Palou's tenure. A noted novelist and former cultural minister for the State of Puebla, he was hired in 2005 and, critics say, began abruptly merging departments, increasing faculty teaching loads, canceling classes, and steadily removing professors and administrative workers without formal review. (Mexican universities do not have tenure systems).

The sudden changes came as a shock to faculty members. The University of the Americas is modeled after American liberal-arts colleges, with student dormitories, a focus on developing English-language skills, and a picturesque, 180-acre campus complete with manicured gardens and fountains. Over the years, and with steady support from the Jenkins foundation and USAID, the 6,000-student institution has become one of Mexico's most regarded universities, attracting top international scholars and exchange students.

The university has long been recognized as a very high-quality, tolerant, pluralistic university," says Manuel Gil Anton, a sociology professor and expert in Mexican higher education at Mexico City's Autonomous Metropolitan University.

In all, more than 60 professors, some 40 high-level administrators, and nearly 200 lower-level personnel have been fired or forced to resign over the past two years, according to several students and professors. Faculty cuts were especially deep in the communication and international-relations departments.

The economics department was nearly halved, and the future of both its master's and doctoral programs are in doubt.

"Our department was on the map and was decimated in one day," says Isidro Soloaga, a former economics professor who says he was forced to resign and was immediately hired at Mexico City's elite College of Mexico.

In interviews with the local news media in May, Mr. Palou argued that dismissed faculty members had engaged in a "conspiracy against the university's interests" and said that new professors with "similar or better academic levels" would replace those let go. To date, nearly all new professors are part-time and lack the recognized international credentials of their predecessors, according to several current and former faculty members and administrators.

"We were accused of conspiracy by questioning what the heck was going on," says Mr. Soloaga. "Pretty soon, people were afraid to speak up."
Conflict of Interest

Under Mr. Palou, his critics say, the administration made several deals that benefited the Jenkins family. They included a campuswide switch from Linux to Microsoft that involved the purchase of new software and Dell computers from a technology firm owned by a Jenkins relative. Other relatives, the critics say, benefit from large insurance and construction contracts.

For years, the Jenkins foundation gave, on average, between $1- and $2-million every year to the university, known as UDLA. But financial support has shrunk drastically since 2002, says Nora Lustig, an economist and a visiting professor of international relations at the Elliott School of International Affairs at George Washington University. She served as rector at UDLA from 2001 until May 2005, when she resigned over disputes with the new leadership of the governing board and its direction over the university.

"The foundation, the UDLA's endowment, shifted under new leadership," she says. "The goal was to turn the university into a self-sustainable, profit-driven enterpriseâ€"not to fund research."

As research funds dropped, the new administration upgraded computer networks and revamped sports facilities in order to start a youth soccer school. A glossy new quarterly magazine called Revuelta debuted in December 2005 and regularly featured the writing of Mr. Palou and those in his literary circle. New undergraduate efforts include a cooking school and programs in nanotechnology, nutrition science, and interior design. Ms. Lustig says such investments were not necessarily bad, but they should not have been a priority.

Late last year, the university adopted a new "code of ethics." A loyalty oath of sorts, it states that any "public declarations" by employees or students that negatively affect the university's image can result in dismissal, according to a notice on the university's Web site.

"Under this code, it was virtually impossible to get anybody to talk to us," said Ms. Cruz, of the student newspaper. When it was shut down in January, the university said it was undergoing an "adjustment." The newspaper reopened a few weeks later following a national media outcry.

Today, La Catarina is widely considered an organ of the administration. Recent articles have heralded the university's lavish new Xbox-equipped video-game room, which is also featured on the university's Web site.

During a tour of the campus with a Chronicle reporter in November, Maria López Aguilar, the university's vice director of communication, referred all questions about the various controversies on the campus to senior administrators.

Asked about the newspaper's temporary shutdown and its ability to report on campus news without violating the loyalty oath, Ms. López said "freedom of speech is no longer an issue."
A Year of Conflict

The temporary closing of La Catarina this past January ushered in a particularly tumultuous year at the campus.

In May, 18 professors gathered to draft a letter of protest to the rector and governing board at the home of Mark Ryan, a former international-relations professor. During the meeting, he said, a campus security guard came to the door and served Mr. Ryan an order to report to the rector's office the next day. So began a wave of forced departures that left 12 of the professors at the meeting, including Mr. Ryan, without jobs. Several of those who left belong to Mexico's prestigious National System of Researchers. Mr. Ryan says they were forced to resign for holding views incompatible with the university's administration.

"The was no room for dissent. I've never experienced anything like it," says Mr. Ryan, who before coming to Mexico was a professor of American studies at Yale University for more than 20 years.

Last spring, the Board of Trustees dismantled the university's advisory board, which once held some authority over the selection of top administrators and faculty members.

"We were systematically prevented from having any information on new contracts or large deals made with the university," said Neil Lindley, a former advisory-board member whose father, Ray Lindley, was the university's first rector. "That just hardened our view that the Jenkinses were motivated by profits and no longer saw the university as a charitable venture."

The turmoil at University of the Americas has made few ripples in a country were local scandals are staples of daily newspapers, but it has grabbed the attention of academics at other universities. Aggrieved faculty members and students at UDLA blog anonymously about the situation, and alumni and former professor talk about it in an effort to garner external support and place pressure on the university to make changes.

In response to such concerns, SACS visited the campus in April 2005. Last December it put the university on a one-year warning, based on its inability to demonstrate financial stability and a failure to present a governing board not controlled by a minority of board members, according to Belle S. Wheelan, president of the accrediting association. On December 11, the accreditation body will announce whether to lift the warning, put the university on probation, or revoke its accreditation.
U.S. Groups Pulling Away

In November, Mr. Palou announced the creation of a new academic council to replace the dismantled advisory board, comprising 23 elected members from various departments. What sorts of powers the council has, though, is not yet clear.

Citing concerns over freedom of expression and mass firings, several U.S. universities, including Vanderbilt University and Texas Christian University, are reconsidering their exchange programs with UDLA. Jim Hromas, director of international education and outreach at Oklahoma State University, says talks to expand his university's study-abroad program with UDLA to include a joint master's-degree program are on hold until "things settle down." The University of Notre Dame is in "wait-and-see mode," says Claudia Kselman, director of international studies there.

USAID grants have also stopped, for the first time in decades. The last cash injection from the U.S. government was made in 2004, for $317,000 for scientific equipment. Since the 1970s, USAID has awarded at least $20-million to the university, with grant totals averaging more than $700,000 since the early 1990s. The money has helped renovate the university library and build student and faculty housing and computing networks.

According to USAID, the absence of grants in recent years owes to the university no longer being "competitive" for funds. The aid agency would not offer a further explanation.

Mr. Palou's departure last month, while welcomed by many, has given critics little cause to rejoice. The vice rector, Guillermo Aurelio Romero Melendez, is the interim leader, and the university, critics note, remains under control of the same board that approved Mr. Palou's decisions.

"Until the Jenkins foundation decides to turn things around, the university will continue being reduced to a shell of its former self in order to enhance profits," says Mr. Simmen. "It is unclear whether a new rector can change that."

These days a culture of fear pervades the campus. A number of professors and students, both former and present, say intimidation tactics are common and include phone tapping and being trailed by plainclothes security guards. Those critical of the university now go to off-campus Internet cafes to send sensitive e-mail messages. "The paranoia is real," says a current graduate student who refused to be identified, fearful of violating the university's "code of ethics."

Meanwhile, Ms. Cruz feels trapped. She lost her adviser in the firings and no longer works at the student newspaper. But transferring to another university, uncommon in Mexico, would mean losing three years of credits. "I'm resigned to finish my studies here," says Ms. Cruz. "But I'm worried that if things don't turn around soon, my degree won't mean much."

Copyright © 2007 by The Chronicle of Higher Education