By Karin Fischer
From Chronicle of Higher Education
August 29, 2014
Annandale-on-Hudson, N.Y.
From an early age, Leon
Botstein’s life was shaped by two powerful forces:
fascism and education. His parents fled Nazi persecution in Poland and, after World War II, settled in the United
States. Mr. Botstein’s
mother and father
eventually joined the faculty of Albert Einstein
College of Medicine,
in New York, leaving
an indelible impression on their young son. “My family owes everything to the dynamism
of American universities,” he says.
Today, Mr. Botstein is president of Bard College,
and his past has influenced the liberal-arts institution’s singular
approach to international engagement.
Mr. Botstein is quick to say that the college's overseas projects are very much an institutional effort. But under his leadership, Bard, whose bucolic campus hugs the Hudson River some 90 miles north of New York City, has championed liberal education in countries in the midst of societal shifts, like post apartheid South Africa. In parts of the world that make headlines for their strife and volatility, such as Russia and the Palestinian West Bank, Bard has helped found new colleges and programs rooted in the liberal arts.
Its ambitions and efforts
at institution building
set it apart from most of its small-college brethren, which have ventured
abroad in more modest ways, such as faculty exchanges or study abroad. And unlike better-known global efforts,
like New York University’s, Bard has eschewed
popular international-education hubs in the Persian Gulf and East Asia.
Though Mr. Botstein and the other architects of Bard’s strategy would be likely to protest
this characterization, it is, in a word,
missionary.
That mission, the set of values that directs the college’s international work,
is the conviction that education—and the liberal arts, with its emphasis on critical thinking
and the open exchange of ideas, in particular—can be a force
for freedom and democracy.
“Education isn’t an insurance
policy for democracy,”
says Bard’s president. “But it’s hard to cre- ate democracy without it.”
Bard’s first foray internationally—running a 1980s-era program
that found short-term posts at American colleges
for dissident scholars
from then-Communist Eastern
Europe—was borne out of a similar impulse.
Not long after the Iron Curtain fell, the college
was approached by a group of so-called
perestroika professors at St. Petersburg State University who were interested in reforming Russian
education. What started
as a collection of interdisciplinary courses open to St. Petersburg State students and faculty
members became a full-fledged liberal-arts college within the university, Smolny College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, the first such institution in Russia, admitting
stu- dents beginning in 1999.
Smolny, which today is the Faculty
of Liberal Arts and Sciences
at St. Petersburg State,
set the template for the partnerships that followed.
Bard would not act as a consultant-for-hire, giving advice and leaving town. Nor would it follow a franchise model, replicating itself
abroad. Instead, it would work with its partner to develop a curriculum largely from scratch. Unlike
graduates of another
high-profile joint project,
the lib- eral-arts
college started by Yale University and the National
University of Singapore, Smolny students would
receive an American
degree. But the new program
would also seek home-country
accreditation.
“It’s not the standard
U.S.-university approach,” says Andrew Wachtel,
president of the American University of Central Asia, in Kyrgyzstan, another
Bard partner. Mr. Wachtel knows something
of the standard model—before coming to AUCA he was dean of the graduate
school at Northwestern University, which has an outpost
of its journalism school in the Persian
Gulf emirate of Qatar.
“It’s not about parachuting the American version
of education into another place,”
Mr. Wachtel says of Bard’s
style. “It’s not, ‘You should
do this, you should do that.’ We are not the junior partner.”
Jonathan Becker,
Bard’s vice president for international affairs and civic engagement, compares the approach
to a marriage. “You’ve got to have compromise,” he says. “It’s not like dating.
You can’t just walk away.”
In practice, what does that mean? If each partnership is a marriage
and the resulting
program a child, just how much Bard DNA is in it?
The answer
is, quite a bit, but sometimes in ways not readily obvious.
You won’t see, for instance, many courses from
Bard’s home campus
in course catalogs
in Bishkek or East Jerusalem. While each partnership has a joint faculty oversight
committee, Bard professors aren’t saying
yay or nay to specific
courses or signing
off on syllabi. In most cases, the two partners
have to reach consensus on hiring decisions. Though Bard sets guidelines,
admissions is done locally.
Bard does sometimes
say no, declining, for example,
to award its degree to business students
at Central Asia, on the grounds that the major is too applied. But its style is not to micromanage.
Rather, Bard’s influence is in the pedagogy—a commitment to interdisciplinarity, critical
think- ing, and discussion-based learning. But lest that seem too abstract, Bard insists that the partner- ships
adopt what it calls the “four pillars,” an educational structure that’s distinctively of the liberal arts and unique
to Bard. The pillars include
a Great Books-style first-year seminar and a senior project, as well as “moderation,” Bard’s
unusually intensive process
for choosing a major.
New students, both at Bard and its partner campuses, must also complete
“Language and Think- ing,” a three-week crash course on writing and critical thinking. The course is a demanding
one for all students, but it can be especially challenging for those educated outside
the United States, says Rebecca Granato, a Bard alumna
and assistant dean at Al Quds Bard Honors College,
Bard’s Palestinian project. Her students come from high schools that emphasize rote learning and, she points out, are being asked to tackle complex subject matter in a second
language, English.
It’s not just students who must adjust
to an unfamiliar approach to education. Faculty
members, too, have a learning
curve. Consequently, much of Bard’s work focuses
on rewiring the teaching style
of professors overseas.
The director of Bard’s Institute for Writing
and Thinking actually
spent two years
at American University of Central Asia, training the faculty there.
Robert W. McGrail,
an assistant professor of computer science
and mathematics, sits on the advisory committee for the AUCA partnership. Much of the committee’s monthly meetings are devoted to troubleshooting problems his Kyrgyz counterparts encounter in the classroom. “They
want to know,” he says, “‘What
do you do at Bard to deal with this?’”
As American higher
education has increased
its international footprint, accreditors in this country
have signaled that they will be taking
a closer look at overseas
projects, particularly when col-
lege credit is awarded. So
far, however, Bard’s relatively nonprescription approach has been OK’d by its accreditor—the Middle
States Commission on Higher Education
reaccredited Bard, along with all of its current
partners, in 2012. And Bard trustees have been among some of the biggest supporters of its global ventures.
The seeming lack of extra scrutiny strikes
even some supporters as unexpected. “I’m surprised,” says Mr. Wachtel,
the AUCA president, “that Bard hasn’t had to defend giving out its degree.”
Though Bard now trumpets its international network,
it didn’t set out to create
one. Instead, its relationships were opportunistic and often built on personal
connections. Bard’s work with Al- Quds
University, for instance, came about when Mr. Botstein, who has a second career as a con- ductor, was in Israel to lead the Jerusalem
Symphony Orchestra and was introduced to Sari Nusseibeh, then president of the Palestinian university. Mr. Nusseibeh, Mr. Botstein
recalls, ini- tially
was cool to working with Bard, preferring a more name-brand American partner.
Visibility is less of an issue these days. As Bard’s global reputation grows, it is increasingly being approached by potential partners. Its latest dual-degree program, Bard College
Berlin, came about after Bard was asked to take over the fledgling liberal-arts college by its founders.
With greater prominence, Bard has become
choosier. While it is exploring
doing work in Myanmar, it has thus far resisted joining
the rush of American colleges
setting up programs
in China.
As it moves
beyond what Mr. Becker,
the international vice president, terms its “crazy
start-up phase,” Bard is focusing
on building stronger
linkages between its partners. It hopes to encour-
age more collaborative research and this fall will offer a joint class, on the theme of hate, at four of
its five campuses.
And the college
is trying to emphasize that all connections need not run through New York. St.
Petersburg State, for example,
has taken on more of an advisory
role with the American University of Central
Asia, with which it shares
a common language
as well as an educational culture inherited from the Soviet
Union.
While Bard is seeking to build stronger
bonds between its partners, perhaps
even more important
are the links each program
develops within its own educational system and society. After all, a central goal of Bard’s work is to effect just that change.
Too
often, efforts
to root the liberal arts in foreign
soil can result in “island”
programs, discon- nected
from the rest of higher
education, says Patti McGill Peterson, presidential adviser for global initiatives at the American Council
on Education.
“The question is,” says Ms. Peterson, the editor of a book on liberal
education in developing countries, “can it become
more than an extra appendage
on the countries’ educational system?”
Bard administrators say they have taken pains to avoid such pitfalls.
The college has limited the number of Bard professors who teach at its partners
so that local faculty members
will feel own- ership
of the curriculum. Likewise, it was slow to allow its students
to study within
the network because it wanted the programs to be seen as native
institutions, not study-abroad sites.
Bard’s early decision to pursue a dual-degree strategy,
however, may have had the most impact. While
the Bard degree
has given the college leverage
in shaping the curriculum, the local degree has given the academic
approach legitimacy. The ministries of education in Kyrgyzstan, the Palestinian territories, and Russia have all officially recognized the liberal-arts curriculum, mean- ing that other institutions, unconnected to Bard, can adopt it.
So far, this has only happened
in Russia, but there are signs of the liberal
arts’ ripple effect. Al- Quds University is adding “Language and Thinking” for all of its students, not only those in the honors college,
and with Bard now offers a master’s
degree in teaching,
exposing West Bank schoolteachers to liberal learning.
In Russia, Alexei Kudrin, a well-connected former
finance minister who is dean of the Faculty of Liberal Arts and Sciences
at St. Petersburg State,
has started an association for liberal-arts colleges, as well as a foundation to support new programs. “Critical
thinking is important
to grow in Russia,” he says. “It’s important to Russia’s
advancement.”
Still, recent events
in Ukraine and growing authoritarianism in Russia only serve as a reminder about how very difficult it is to bring about change.
Mr. Botstein is sanguine. “This is not a vaccination program,” he says of Bard’s work. “It’s very long-term transformation.”
But working in unpredictable parts of the world can come with
controversy.
Last fall, for example, students
at Al-Quds University staged a campus
rally in which demonstra-
tors toted fake automatic weapons,
raised a traditional Nazi salute, and honored “martyred” sui- cide bombers. Two other
American universities, Brandeis
and Syracuse, severed
ties with the Palestinian institution after
they said top administrators there
failed to condemn
the protests.
Despite criticism, Bard officials say they never considered ending
the relationship.
Bard’s ties with the financier George Soros have also drawn scrutiny. The sometimes divisive hedge-fund manager’s
Open Society Foundations have supported college’s
work in Kyrgyzstan as well as at the European Humanities University, in Lithuania, where Bard is helping rethink
the curriculum.
Critics have called
the college the education arm of the Open Society
Foundations. But Mr. Becker
says it was actually Bard that interested the nonprofit group in liberal
education. And on campus the issue has had little
traction.
Indeed, unlike the furious disputes
that have marked
international projects at institutions like Duke, Yale, and NYU, Bard’s global
work has been notable for the lack of controversy it has generated
among faculty members.
Some professors even say they came to Bard because
they didn’t want just another
ivy-covered campus but an institution with a clear sense of its place in the world.
For Mr. Botstein, going
abroad has reinforced Bard’s core liberal-arts mission. “Being international has had a boomerang
effect,” he says, “of developing institutional self-awareness of what we stand for.”