Jason Tangson | God save the queen

When | But may she save us too

By Jason Tangson 03/30/15 12:04am

To paraphrase Under the Button, President Amy Gutmann is our queen. That is, she is a constitutional monarch, the living component of the University regalia that symbolizes Penn.

Ordained by the Penn Establishment, she has been an exemplary president. She represents Penn diligently both in stature and status, mixing her applicative academic background with that jazzy air of tailored professionalism.

She also represents Penn safely. Every statement of hers is anodyne and tempered to conform to the wont of the administration. As Penn’s fount of honor, she dispenses degrees, tenures, honors and, most recently, the Presidential Engagement Prizes in her name, but only at the accord of protocol and recommendations. While her initiatives, prizes and motivations may well be her prerogative, they only materialize after exceptional permission and extensive pruning by the trustees, deans and benefactors that dictate Penn’s institutional vision.

To the extent that Gutmann is a professional president for our pre-professional school, she is public relations perfection. Our president plays safe, but as a consequence, she is distant to the student body. As far as monarchs go, it’s a treat to even see President Gutmann. We’ve all had our anecdotes: being in line for frozen yogurt, surreptitiously leaving her mansion or swooping in for an impromptu photoshoot with members of UMOJA. Under the Button’s “Chasing Amy” feature similarly takes a starstruck tone when writing about President Gutmann.

Yet, very few students have had personal encounters with her beyond a purely professional capacity; even fewer can distinguish between what she stands for and where she stands for the University. Her recounting of her life as a first-generation college student adds a human touch to Penn’s campaign push for increased financial aid, but it also plays as a marketing scheme.

As a symbol of the University, the president should make some effort to personally connect with the students, and not just in queueing photo shoots at holiday soirees. President Rodin had drop-in breakfasts and luncheons in her office that were open to students and faculty. Elsewhere, this is supplemented by other faculty leaders in the community. At my original alma mater, Wesleyan University, in addition to President Michael Roth teaching a seminar per semester and occasionally eating in our dining hall, the class deans play a prominent role in hosting lunches, activities and “office hours” to hear the students’ thoughts and concerns.

These events and actions, while small, were all venues for breaking down the barriers between the administration and its students. But the nature of Penn’s administration makes fostering these connections more tenuous and artificial.

Gutmann’s participation in the die-in last semester made news not only for its political content, but because it was a rare act for our president to express herself with such candor. Even if it was made in the rush of the moment. While her reaction caused more controversy than it was probably worth, it was refreshing, if not novel, to see her “act human.”

Maybe, as lowly undergrads — having barely aged beyond the conviction of teenage geocentricism — we expect an undue weight for the University to cater for the undergraduates, when, in fact, in funding and in office hours, we sit low on the totem pole. Though the real manual labor is done by the deans, the president is also nominally in charge of Wharton, the Law School, the Veterinary School and a few others, all of which demand a fair share of the Presidential Presence, spreading her thin.

In lieu of playing with the kids (i.e. the students) at home, Amy Gutmann is out fundraising billions, buffing up our endowment and representing Penn at superstar platforms like Davos. Clearly, she — or the institution, though the line is never clear — is well aware of the opportunity costs.

But when our monarch, who symbolizes the institution, the administration and all it stands for, appears distant, rigid and unavailable, what does that say about Penn? How does that perception come off to students, many of whom feel isolated and disconnected?

While universities no longer operate strictly in loco parentis, an administration that has an avuncular approachability is crucial to the campus’ mental wellbeing.

JASON TANGSON is a College junior from Cambridge, Mass., studying linguistics. His email address is tjason@sas.upenn.edu.

Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The Daily Pennsylvanian.