You have to try to do what's right.

President's decision cost university its single-largest donor

Sooner or later, every editorial writer who is worth reading makes a major advertiser angry. And sooner or later, any university president who exercises academic and community leadership offends a major donor. The principle in both cases is the same: Try to do what's right, consequences be damned.

The consequences for University of Oregon president Dave Frohnmayer came with a lot of zeroes this spring, when his decision to affiliate with the Worker Rights Consortium cost the university the support of its largest single donor, Nike founder Phil Knight.

The Register-Guard editorially supported Frohnmayer, partly because it's the UO's hometown newspaper. (The Oregonian, published in Portland, where Nike's suburban headquarters is a visible corporate presence, stood by Knight.)

But more than provincialism was at play. The Nike/UO falling-out involves questions of independence faced by all institutions that serve the public, newspapers included. In a time of increasing economic concentration, and of growing reliance on private support of public services, the stakes are higher than ever.

Nike is the quintessential modern global corporation. It is essentially a marketing and design company; its shoes and apparel are manufactured by low-margin contractors with plants in Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean. Nike's hugely successful business model has been copied throughout the shoe and clothing industry and has made Knight a billionaire several times over.

It has also made Nike an early target for opponents of economic globalization, who see a grossly unequal division of the benefits of Knight's enterprise. Long before last year's protests in Seattle against the World Trade Organization, Knight was pursued by filmmaker Michael Moore and scolded by New York Times columnist Bob Herbert for running a company that paid factory workers pennies a day while signing a $20 million endorsement deal with basketball star Michael Jordan.

Nike has attempted to respond by imposing standards on its contractors that require wages and working conditions that meet or exceed local minimums. These efforts have earned high marks from some groups that monitor labor conditions, such as Global Exchange in San Francisco. But Nike's factories still look like sweatshops to the company's critics, and probably always will. The criticism has intensified since the issue of globalization moved to center stage for a new generation of activists on college campuses around the country.

Give the kids credit: They found a lever they could use to force changes in labor practices halfway around the world. At the UO and at other universities, they demanded that companies licensed to sell apparel bearing their schools' logos be manufactured in factories with good wages and working conditions. It's a reasonable demand: No university should wish to be associated with sweatshops. And it's a powerful one: The agreements between universities and apparel manufacturers are lucrative, involving millions in merchandise and licensing fees.

The key to fair labor standards is monitoring. Nike is willing, even eager, to submit to monitoring -- but only by an industry-supported group called the Fair Labor Association. Activists support a union-sponsored group called the Worker Rights Consortium. Nearly 50 colleges and universities have affiliated with the WRC.

Student protestors camped out in front of the UO administration building this spring, and vowed to stay until Frohnmayer agreed to affiliate with the WRC. A student body election, which attracted a typically low turnout, supported the WRC. Frohnmayer refused to act until after a vote on the issue by the University Senate, a campus group representing faculty and staff The ensuing week was a noisy one, with arrests, sit-ins, and angry denunciations of the UO's complicity in the exploitation of Third World workers.

In due course, the University Senate met and voted to join the WRC -- but only for a year. Renewal would be the subject to four conditions: university representation on the WRC board, full disclosure of the group's finances, open meetings and -- the big one -- industry representation. Frohnmayer accepted that recommendation, and the protesters struck their tents.

Knight responded with a scorching letter: "For me personally, there will be no further donations of any kind to the UO. At this time, this is not a situation that can be resolved. The bonds of trust, which allowed me to give at such a high level, have been shredded."

A high level, indeed: Knight has given the UO $50 million, largely financing a remodeled library and a new law school building. Further donations from Knight were expected to help pay for an $80 million expansion of the UO's football stadium. When Knight shut off the spigot, the UO lost by far its biggest single source of private money. The stadium project is on hold.

Knight's connections to the UO are deep, almost mythic. He graduated from the UO, as did his father, a former publisher of The Oregon Journal. Knight ran on a UO track team coached by the legendary Bill Bowerman, who made the prototype for the soles of Nike running shoes on his waffle iron. Knight sold the first Nikes from the back of his car at UO track meets.

The depth of this connection helps explain Knight's reaction. He has been at turns frustrated, hurt, puzzled, and angered by his inability to remove the antisweatshop movement's bull's-eye from his forehead.

Frohnmayer's WRC decision felt like a betrayal by an old partner and ally, and his response was furious.

Naturally, these events demanded an editorial response.

There were three opinions: One, tell Frohnmayer he'd made a mistake, advise him to suspend the WRC affiliation, and suggest that he beg Knight's forgiveness. Two, play the peacemaker and seek some way to put an end to this lovers' quarrel. And three, tell Phil Knight that the University of Oregon's decisions, misguided though they may sometimes be, are not subject to donor influence, and if he doesn't like that, he can damn well keep his money.

We settled upon a combination of options two and three. Our editorial defended Frohnmayer against one of Knight's central complaints -- that he wasn't consulted. We pointed out that the arguments over the WRC had been swirling on campus for weeks, and that the process leading up to Frohnmayer's decision was a public one. Knight had plenty of opportunities to make his views known, in public or in private. And if the university had made a special effort to seek the views of a donor with an interest in the issue, the conditions attached to the UO's WRC affiliation would have been suspected of being tainted.

"What's at stake," our editorial said, "is the institutional independence without which neither academic freedom nor free speech can exist. Once Frohnmayer and the University Senate determined that joining the WRC is the right thing to do, only force of argument -- not the weight of donations -- should sway them."

At the same time, we expressed hope that the mutually beneficial relationship between Knight and the UO could be repaired, and urged Knight to give Frohnmayer a chance to explain the university's position.

Accountability to public, not donors

We printed dozens of letters about the UO/Nikerupture, many from people who seem to have been waiting for a chance to bash the university, Nike, or both. A fair number advised the UO to shed its dewy-eyed idealism, and realize that money equals power in the real world. A fair number of others expressed thoughts roughly in line with our editorial position: The UO is accountable to the public, not its donors. Likewise, newspapers are accountable to their readers, who could not be expected to trust a publication that tailors its editorial positions to avoid giving offense to advertisers. The cost of maintaining such a position can be painfully high. A good publisher, or a good university president, will understand that the cost of compromise is even higher.

NCEW member Jackman Wilson is editorialpage editor of The Register-Guard in Eugene, Ore., home of the University of Oregon.

UO stands on principle

Phil Knight is in a league all his own when it comes to his support for the University of Oregon.

The Nike founder's promise to end that support is a blow to the university, its students, and Eugene. But the UO can recover from the loss of its biggest donor.

It could not recover if Knight's millions led it to back down from a decision based on principle.

Knight is angry that UO President Dave Frohnmayer agreed to join the Worker Rights Consortium, an organization established to monitor working conditions in overseas factories.

Knight prefers another monitoring group, the Fair Labor Association, which has the support of industry, the White House, and the U.S. Department of Labor. Above all, Knight feels wounded that the UO did not consult him on this issue.

Knight is entitled to his views on the relative merits of the WRC and the FLA -- and if he believes the UO has chosen the wrong group, he's free to express his displeasure as loudly as he likes.

An alumnus who has given $50 million to the university, and who might have chipped in $30 million more for the planned expansion of Autzen Stadium, can express displeasure loudly indeed.

But he could not have expected Frohnmayer or the University Senate to alter their judgment on the workplace monitoring issue to satisfy a donor, no matter how large.

What's at stake is the institutional independence without which neither academic freedom nor free speech can exist.

Once Frohnmayer and the University Senate deter mined that joining the WRC is the right thing to do, only the force of argument -- not the weight of donations -- should sway them.

Knight, whose company has done more than most to improve conditions in its overseas factories, believes he was denied a chance to present his arguments. Fair enough -- he should agree to meet with Frohnmayer to discuss this matter.

Frohnmayer deserves a chance to explain that the UO's WRC alliance is conditioned upon university membership on the organization's board, full disclosure of the group's sources of financing, open meetings and -- addressing one of Knight's chief complaints -- industry representation.

Maybe after a conversation covering these points, everyone can cool down.

Or maybe not. Maybe relations between Knight and the UO have been irreparably damaged.

That would be a sad ending to a relationship that has greatly benefited the university.

But the UO has no real choice but to stand its ground, and stick with whatever decision it believes best serves its mission and its social responsibilities.

Would any donor, large or small, be willing to give money to a university that did otherwise?