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Lessons from Tolstoy

Thinking about the relevance of the work that I do is an ongoing endeavor. At today's American university, we feel that literature and culture somehow have to justify themselves, and in today's economy, students (and their parents) worry about the applicability of their major.

Recently a student who had been abroad needed my signature for his transfer credits. We started talking. Turns out that last year he studied in Moscow for a semester, but then scored an internship with a global company and worked all summer with Russian co-workers, and was going back again this summer. "You should be a Russian major," I told him. "Nah," he replied. "I am a business major, and I don't have time for more Russian courses." So he is learning the language, and learning the country through hands-on experience, but he won't be a double major. Not practical.

In my student days people also said "A Russian major? What are you going to do with that?" or "What is the point of literary studies, anyway?" I don't think my professors felt compelled to offer answers.

Now I have one, though.

Last week an article posted in the on-line version of The Chronicle of Higher Education -- a venue for academics and those who pay attention to colleges and universities. (Full disclosure: the article was written by my husband, Steve Conn.) The headline reads: "Welcome to Ohio State, Where Everything Is For Sale."

Writing about new strategies at the university to "monetize our assets," many spearheaded by CFO Geoffrey Chatas, one of the data points Steve uses is the parking debacle. To quote an article in the student newspaper:
In 2012, under Chatas’ leadership, OSU entered into a 50-year, $483 million partnership with QIC, which leased the university’s parking assets to the company.
According to a previous Lantern article, this deal yielded the money for 87 full-ride student scholarships, something we are all in favor of. But now Geoff Chatas is leaving Ohio State for an opportunity with that same Australian company.

Ohio State, like all universities, is a non-profit. QIC is a for-profit company.

I can imagine why Ohio State wants to offload responsibility for the parking endeavor. It's a headache -- constant maintenance, complaining students, staff and faculty, the endless snow and ice in the winter that needs to be dealt with (this winter especially). We should be focused on "core mission," to quote Steve Conn, on what we do best -- educating our students, doing our research, not maintaining the university's infrastructure and repairing potholes. Student scholarships are a great outcome for such a business deal, from Ohio State's point of view.

But wait. It makes sense for us to get out of the parking business. Why would anyone else want to be in it, though? Why would a company agree to lease our parking assets?

For the answer, let's turn to Tolstoy.

In Anna Karenina, the bon vivant Stiva Oblonsky lives slightly beyond his means. His money management skills are not what they might be. So he needs to sell off the timber in a forest belonging to his wife to raise some capital.

Chatting about the deal with him, his friend Konstantin Levin asks: "Have you counted the trees?" Oblonsky is amused: "How can one count the trees?"

And Levin answers with all the acumen of a contemporary businessman:
No dealer will ever buy without first counting, unless the forest is given to him for nothing, as you are doing. I know your forest. I go shooting there every year, and it is worth five hundred roubles a desyatina cash down, and he is paying you two hundred on long term. That means that you have made him a present of about thirty thousand roubles.  [...] He would not consider a deal which would bring him in ten or fifteen per cent; he waits until he can buy at a fifth of the value. (AK part II, chapter XVI).
Due diligence. Stiva doesn't want to make the effort required to establish the value of his property and instead takes the dealer's word for it. More importantly, he wants the whole business to go off in a pleasant manner and is willing to lose monetarily for the convenience of getting his result.

When QIC did the deal with us to lease our parking, they took responsibility for managing the parking for fifty years. Surely the university, and Geoff Chatas, did their due diligence to figure out why this company was willing to take on our responsibilities toward students and faculty who need somewhere to leave their cars? Why would QIC do this deal if it was not financially advantageous to them as a for-profit company?

I hear that there was a Levin-like investigation, commissioned by the university, and that the recommendation was don't do it! this deal is a terrible one for the university! But it was in Chatas's best interests, apparently ... and the deal is done.

When our CFO arrived at Ohio State, another recommendation was given to him: if you want to have legitimacy in the academic world, you should get a higher degree. He was assigned a faculty advisor in the history department and supposedly was to be working on a PhD. But it turns out that legitimacy in our world was not his goal; his goal was to do some business deals and move on.

Wish he'd taken a Tolstoy course while he was here. In Tolstoy we find aesthetic pleasure and moral righteousness. We find good business strategies. And we learn to see not just the forest, but also the trees.

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