Have you ever had a day on campus where you didn’t see a Nike swoosh?
As the Emerald noted (“Dwindling donations on the horizon,” ODE, April 8), Phil Knight has made a “transaction” with the University. In exchange for copious amounts of fundraising, Uncle Phil receives endless publicity in a large campus community. His brand logo decorates fliers, T-shirts and bumper stickers alike.
The University of Oregon operates under a business model. Other than the 13 percent state funding the University receives, more than 56 percent of academic funding comes from private gifts. Donors are allowed to choose where to put their money, and in large cases, what should be done with it. If the University is a public company that alumni, supporters and corporations can invest in, would it be safe to say that its largest donor is the majority shareholder?
If so, Phil Knight owns the University of Oregon. If his gifts are withdrawn, the entire institution could fall.
Take this case where his immense influence was demonstrated: A little more than a decade ago, students from the University organized an anti-sweatshop protest. Wishing to acquire University President Dave Frohnmayer’s signature, they camped outside Johnson Hall for days. Pressured by media attention and the growing number of students, Frohnmayer signed the petition. When Uncle Phil found out, he withdrew his money. Knowing very well the repercussions Knight’s withdrawal would have, our president searched for a solution to his suddenly giant dilemma.
Frohnmayer examined the petition and found a loophole that made his signature void after one year. After notifying Knight, the two men came to a compromise to re-initiate donations the following school year. Knight had re-assumed his post as the owner of two companies.
It is obvious that donors are necessary to sustaining a large university. However, there is something to be said for how American institutions set up such a vulnerable house of cards.
The process of selective giving is where universities first went wrong. When development officers declared it acceptable for donors to dictate where and what institutions should do with their money, the goal of higher education was undermined. Rather than have donors donate to the pursuit of knowledge or an investment in the future, development officers made a number of compromises. Just like the relationship between policymakers and lobbyists, our universities succumbed their integrity under financial pressure.
In this new era of idealistic “hope” and “change,” students should consider the infrastructure of the university they attend. Is it fair that some academic departments receive far more funding than others? Is it ethical that a professor of science can receive tenure far easier than a professor of English? With environmental issues escalating, social unrest increasing and the gap between political ideologies further separating, we should consider the sustainability of our universities, which breed innovation that can solve environmental and social issues. If their decisions and sustainability are based on the interests of a majority stockholder, how will solidarity prevail?
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