A new, book-length case study of the exercise of power in U.S. universities and colleges is highly critical of the self-perpetuating governing boards that legally control America's 3,600-plus institutions of higher learning, calling them "too powerful and completely out of their depth."

"When Power Corrupts" (Transaction Publishers, New Brunswick and London, 2000), a new book by Lionel S. Lewis, emeritus professor of sociology, is equally critical of board-appointed college and university administrators who, the study found, "have rarely established themselves as scholars, researchers or teachers and offer no evidence of especially good judgment as managers or leaders."

Although the public usually is unaware of it, says Lewis, "Conflicts over governance too often take precedence over academic work on American campuses, and its implications for higher education are negative and profound."

The study focuses on national issues of academic governance that emerged in the shadow of the very public and nearly catastrophic events that took place from 1985-96 at Adelphi University in Garden City, N.Y.

Lewis, who also is adjunct professor of higher education, calls the Adelphi case "a disgrace, not only to the school but to the entire higher-education community."

The study concludes that in institutions of higher education in the United States, most of the power resides not with faculty-as many erroneously assume-but in two largely nonacademic entities with enormous influence over the fortune of the institution, its programs, faculty and students.

The first of these are what Lewis calls "the self-perpetuating lay governing boards, with at most, little or no understanding of academic culture, who have complete authority over institutional policy."

The second are the administrators they appoint, whom, he says, are beholden to no one, particularly in private colleges and universities, because they often can influence new appointments to the board of trustees that oversee them and their institutions.

"The Adelphi case was an extreme example and its ferociousness unusual," says Lewis, "but in terms of how the system works, it isn't at all unique.

"In spite of their frequent claims to the contrary," he says, "the power of governing boards and academic administrators is unlimited. They can basically do whatever they want for or to a program, discipline, department or faculty member."

Lewis' conclusions are based on a careful analysis of a nearly 8,000-page transcript of hearings on the Adelphi affair conducted by the New York State Board of Regents, interviews and 11 volumes of exhibits and hundreds of documents from law firms and other parties involved in the investigation.

The conflict began when the Adelphi trustees hired Peter Diamandopoulos, despite what Lewis calls "his alarming record as the polarizing president of California State University at Sonoma. The board member who chaired the committee that recruited Diamandopoulos knew that he had been forced to resign from Sonoma State but declined to look into the matter."

Having vested authority in Diamandopoulos, the board proceeded to give him unquestioned support during his disputatious 11-year administration, which Lewis says began with mostly superficial improvements that established the president in the minds of his supporters as "Adelphi's savior" and "a sage who could do no wrong."

When, as a result of the president's policies, Adelphi's enrollment steadily decreased, disenchantment and strife rose, civility eroded throughout the university and complaints by faculty members and students began to mount.

Concern was expressed over the fact that limited financial resources were being diverted to nonacademic pursuits, Lewis says, such as refurbishing administrative offices, financing administrative junkets and upgrading athletic facilities.

"As opposition grew, the administration expressed considerable contempt for the faculty," Lewis says.

"Diamandopoulos cut the Faculty Senate's operations budget; temporarily cut telephone service to the office of the faculty union, which he also attempted to decertify; with his wife, made threatening phone calls to faculty members, and threatened faculty and students with defamation lawsuits when they complained to the press," he said. He also halted the promotion and tenure process-in effect, fired faculty members who had been put forward by faculty and deans for tenure and promotion.

While this was going on, the Adelphi trustees increased Diamandopoulos' salary and fringe benefits to more than $800,000-an average of 400 percent more than that of university presidents in similar institutions-made expensive housing concessions on the president's behalf and overlooked his misappropriation of university funds for gifts and political contributions. This is even more shocking, says Lewis, given that Adelphi's endowment fund contained only $10 million at its highest point.

The board itself had conflicted interests. Among Diamondoupolos' greatest advocates on the board was John Silber, the controversial president of Boston University. He had been Diamandopoulos' mentor and after the president was fired, saw to it that Boston University hired him. The board chair owned an insurance company that received the Adelphi insurance account without the benefit of a bidding process.

"Despite serious and long-standing abuses of board and administrative power," Lewis says, "it took nearly a decade for the New York State Board of Regents, which controls all of the state's colleges and universities, to step in and dismiss the trustees and appoint a new board, which then fired Diamandopoulos.

"As the Adelphi case makes very clear," he says, "unless administrators do something particularly egregious," he says, "the façade remains intact, whatever the consequences to the institution, its students, faculty and other employees."

Lewis notes that although collegial forms of governance once prevailed in American universities, faculty input into administrative decisions has diminished considerably over the years.

"The notion of faculty-shared governance and special privilege is a myth that serves various administrative ends," Lewis says. "Endless faculty committee work veils the fact that faculty members actually have control only over students and the academic requirements of degree programs. And that's about it."