DeanWuBlog

David Moran

I write in response to the announcement made by Associate Dean David Moran that he will be leaving Wayne Law to develop the clinical legal program he has dreamt about.

I have had the honor of knowing David Moran for about half my lifetime, though I had not known him well before we began to work together. Since then, I have come to appreciate his wisdom and dedication, not only with regard to the art of teaching, about which he might teach the teachers considerably, but also to the betterment of an institution about which we both care greatly, he so sincerely that I am humbled. David has already had, well before reaching the apex, a career of which most of us would be envious if we were able to comprehend its entirety. As a teacher, he is without equal in the eyes of all observers. With a plainspoken manner, bearing a sheaf of handwritten notes generated through preparation rare to see among experienced faculty, and little else besides his wits, he captivates, entertains, and, above all, educates. As a scholar, he has proven how much the theoretical can be practical, and vice versa, single-handedly eliminating false divisions that plague the academy. And in his service, I could say so much but will limit myself to the observation that he has done the thankless work of his office without for a moment aspiring to use it for his own advancement.

David Moran is an individual who exemplifies what the practice of law is about. Some may be aware that he was a scientist before he was a lawyer. Whatever the loss to science, the gain to law is magnificent. In the Dean's Suite these past two and a half years, David has been a model for me to follow. He has been an ideal colleague.

Please join me, and the countless others who have benefitted from this association, in wishing him well in his endeavors to come.

Brussel Sprouts and Bruckner

II have always believed it important to be as open-minded as possible. As I age, I realize it will be easy to follow habits to becoming a curmudgeon, unwilling to tolerate much less try new experiences and consider new ideas. So to avoid a sedentary, slothful life, not only physically but mentally and spiritually as well, I am always looking for opportunities to learn and grow.

Lately, I have decided to acquire a taste for brussel sprouts and Anton Bruckner, both of which I have contacted only minimally. I did not grow up eating brussel sprouts, meaning I lack the aversion to the vegetable that so many seem to have developed from childhood forced consumption. I am a philistine with respect to classical music, though I know that classical music is itself a misnomer covering multiple periods from the Baroque to the Romantic. Having tasted brussel sprouts perhaps thrice, I have found them to be piquant – indeed, to be the perfect food for that term. Bruckner’s Eighth Symphony, the first movement of which I have listened to several times in a fine recording conducted by Gunter Wand, has the exciting quality that I most like in orchestral works.
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Criticism

I recently had the opportunity to complete the survey for the Zagat restaurant review book, and, as I did so, I developed greater admiration for the food writers who critique their meals on a regular basis, with a palate as well educated as the pen. I found it difficult to contribute more than the most general, clichéd, and trivial remarks, despite eating out almost every dinner and lunch. It truly is a set of skills that surpasses what most amateurs are able to muster, to author descriptions of the act of eating that are more than recitations of the menu. And it is independent of the ability to cook. I am often struck by how many people who are good in an endeavor are not especially compelling in describing that endeavor, and how others who have developed wonderful taste may lack the skills to perform the very activity of which they are the most astute observers. I am reminded of the great Pauline Kael, the film critic who single-handedly established a genre of writing, who once said something along the lines of, “You don’t have to lay eggs to know what a good omelet tastes like.” (More)

Stakeholding and More

As Dean, I have realized that one of the most difficult aspects of leadership is persuading people they have a common cause. I have tried to cultivate a sense of stakeholding: the feeling that causes people to invest their time, money, and energy into an idea or an institution, abstractions and entities larger than themselves. I have enjoyed modest success. Indeed, some of the people who have been most generous, especially of their time, which is harder to give than money, had not previously had the most direct relationship to the Law School. The greatest gratification is when they in turn persuade others of the value of the vision we have for positive change – for the contributions that can be made by our students and our alumni, and by organized activities that create public life.

Yet as much of a challenge as it has been to generate a sense of stakeholding, for the sentiments cannot be instilled by command nor can they be readily faked and a place that trains attorneys inspires less affection perhaps than some other sites of memory, it is even more of a challenge to generate a sense of shared goals. Many of us believe in the programs with which we are associated, the students whom we have trained, the teachers by whom we have been trained, and so on, without connecting our experiences to those of others in a meaningful manner. The notion that our success depends on the success of others, and that it will be our failure if they fail, is referred to in rhetoric only rarely, and put into practice even less. It matters not that it is true: certainly, a Dean recognizes as much, for a Dean is identified with the entirety of the operation over which he nominally presides, and it would not do to point out the accomplishments of a single aspect, especially if it were to the neglect of everything else.

Our Law School, like our metropolitan area, will flourish only if all of us work together.

Outlaws and Stonewall Bar

Last night, I personally hosted a reception for Outlaws and the Stonewall Bar Association, our LGBT student group and the local predominantly LGBT voluntary bar association. I did so not only because I believe in engaging with students and cultivating the bench and the bar, but also due to my belief that among the remaining civil rights issues our nation faces is legalized discrimination against individuals based on their sexual orientation. While we have much more than we may realize to do, and I embrace the challenge, with respect to race, gender, disability, and religion, among other sources of potential division, we at least have forged a consensus, fragile though it may be, that legal discrimination on the basis of these classifications is wrong – more than wrong as a technical matter, violative of a shared sense of moral norms. Other forms of legal discrimination have become so inconsequential that they barely attract notice: for example, there was a time and there are still cultures that embrace explicit birth order discrimination. Yet with respect to only a few remaining traits – sexual orientation and immigrant status perhaps most prominent among them – do we as a nation continue to allow de jure distinctions to be drawn, almost all of them rooted in invidious intentions even those motivations have been forgotten or may be unconvincingly disavowed. As Dean of our Law School, I have sought to address these issues as they affect access to higher education and the justice system, though of course the consequences extend far beyond those areas with which it is eminently appropriate we be concerned.

It has been my practice to host events with various student groups, including, among others, BLSA, JLSA, and the Christian Law Students Association. The opportunity to interact informally with faculty, along with practitioners, is invaluable. I’d like to thank especially Professor Peter Hammer for attending the Outlaws-Stonewall function, along with philosophy Professor John Corvino.

Guest Teaching

Last week, I guest taught for David Moran. The course was Evidence and the session was on conditional relevance. I have taught Evidence before, but the particular topic is complicated and not intuitive.

I approached the evening with guilt, fear, and the anticipation of pleasure. Guilt because I know that by asking David to be Associate Dean, I had taken him out of the classroom (not wholly, but partially), and he enjoys teaching. Fear because I also know that David is among the best teachers on a faculty that values teaching. The anticipation of pleasure because I have missed teaching, and I had found the preparation to be challenging, which meant that the discussion would be even more so.

It was terrific to have had the opportunity, albeit brief, to work with my friend and colleague David in an altogether different context than our usual tasks in the Dean’s Suite. It was even better to have interacted with the students who obviously are learning a tremendous amount.

Lincoln

I enjoy reading biographies. One of my life projects is to read a biography of every American president: I’ve started with the giants whose lives are fascinating and accomplishments universally admired, such as Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln. The ability of the last to bring together people with strong wills and different viewpoints, during a time of great crisis, offers many insights into leadership.

The historian Doris Kearns Goodwin wrote a popular article about Lincoln in which she recounts a number of episodes for didactic purposes. I try to bear in mind a pair in particular. Goodwin said the following.

Lincoln’s Secretary, John Hay, described the mental torture of waiting for an hour with Secretary of State Seward and Lincoln in George McClellan’s house for the general to return from a wedding. When McClellan finally did come back, he simply passed the room in which the President was sitting; another half an hour went by before a servant informed Lincoln that McClellan had gone to bed. Young John Hay was enraged. “I wish here to record what I consider a portent of evil to come,” he wrote in his diary as he recounted the story of what he considered an inexcusable “insolence of epaulettes.” To Hay’s surprise, Lincoln “seemed not to have noticed it specially, saying it was better at this time not to be making points of etiquette & personal dignity.”

Another story is told of the time when a Congressman had received Lincoln’s authorization for something to be carried out by the War Department. When War Secretary Stanton refused to honor the order, the disappointed petitioner returned to Lincoln, telling him that Stanton had not only countermanded the order but had called the President a damn fool for issuing it. “Did Stanton say I was a damn fool?” Lincoln asked. “He did, sir, and repeated it.” At which point, the President remarked, “If Stanton said I was a damn fool, then I must be one, for he is nearly always right and generally says what he means. I will step over and see him.”

These two stories, even if apocryphal, set a high standard for anyone who holds authority. Of course, Lincoln was no weakling. For in most cases, because of his skills including his own self-restraint, he was able to turn his vision into reality.

Athletics

As the NCAA Faculty Athletics Representative, I have been persuaded of the value of organized athletics to higher education. I must admit that I was an unlikely choice for this important role on campus: as a child, I was a classic geek with little interest in sports. My father, who played intramural basketball and traveled to tournaments to compete against other club teams in the Midwest, continued to be a vigorous about hoops until recently, as well as taking up tennis later in life and being willing to shovel the snow off the courts in order to play doubles. Like his profession of engineering, this passion I did not inherit.

In any event, from my involvement with our athletics program I have seen that it provides structure to undergraduate education, instills discipline and teamwork (the latter even in events requiring competition among individuals), creates a lasting sense of stakeholding and community, and offers a welcome complement to academic study. Of course, it promotes a healthy lifestyle, and it would be wrong to underestimate the influence of physical well-being on intellectual pursuits. There also is ample empirical evidence showing that, on average, student-athletes persist to graduation at higher rates than typical students. It is enough that I have taken up exercising with a trainer at least twice a week, and I took fencing lessons – just enough to host “Whack Wu,” a group lesson for alumni, faculty, and administrators.

Carol Izumi

Although my wife, Carol Izumi, and I are more private than public, people have been appropriately curious about her condition since I announced my resignation due to her health. Carol suffers from lupus and rheumatoid arthritis, both of which are conditions that can flare up and become more severe. Just over a year ago, she ruptured a tendon in her right hand. Her doctor had earlier warned her about this possibility, which is a consequence of degeneration of the wrist bones, and for which he advised immediate surgery, to avoid further ruptures that could impair use of the hand on a permanent basis.

Accordingly, in December 2006, Carol had surgery to fuse the right wrist, which in her case involved installation of a metal plate to provide strength. She then had three months of physical therapy to restore use of her hand, though the wrist no longer has mobility and she regained use of four of five fingers. In May 2006, she then had surgery to fuse the left wrist, as a precautionary measure. She again had three months of physical therapy, and it was entirely successful.

As we had planned, Carol resigned her administrative position at her law school. Following a sabbatical, she has returned to teaching.

Meanwhile, Carol has started a new treatment regimen, using some different medications. The issues she faces are life-changing, but they are not life-threatening. We are hopeful that the degenerative course of the lupus and arthritis will be slowed or stopped. We appreciate the support we have received from everyone.

Transition

I am pleased to report that Dean Designate Robert Ackerman and I have started the transition process. Dean Designate Ackerman is an experienced Dean, having served in that role a decade ago at a school on the West Coast.

We have already worked out a good division of responsibilities. We communicate constantly to ensure we are integrated in this process. As Dean, expected to remain through Commencement, I am continuing to fulfill all the responsibilities of the office, in particular with respect to day-to-day operations and this fiscal year. It is important to me personally that I continue to steward the Law School, as if I were to be here for many years to come – in my view, the principled course of action is to make decisions with the same sense of commitment. I’d like to hand over the keys to a Law School that is as strong as possible. As Dean Designate, Professor Ackerman is beginning to learn about the institution and the people. In addition, he is consulting on and making decisions as to matters affecting primarily next fiscal year and beyond. His input is invaluable on many of the choices we face now, and I’m pleased to commit to his judgment any that have lasting effect. I’ve indicated to everyone on the administrative team of the Law School that they should feel free to work directly with Dean Designate Ackerman, advising me of what is resolved, while also bearing in mind that like me he too has a day job. That is to say, he has graciously indicated to me he does not have an interest in micromanaging from 500 miles away before he has started.

I’m confident that our understanding will allow Dean Designate Robert Ackerman to have the best possible start to his tenure. I’m looking forward, at least as much as everyone else, to his arrival, and I wish him only the best.