Near the end of his New York Magazine cover story detailing more than 18 months of turmoil at Columbia University, writer Nick Summers recounts an embarrassing scene that crisis management leaders of other institutions can learn from.
Summers recounts a virtual meeting during which then-Interim President Katrina Armstrong attempted to convince faculty that the university was right to concede to political pressure from the Trump administration. The university didn’t want a written record, but organizers could not figure out how to turn off the virtual meeting’s transcription. Unsurprisingly, the transcript was leaked.
It was the kind of unforced error institutions must avoid when communicating during a crisis. But blaming this leak on what the article calls “another bit of amateur hour” and suggesting that’s what ultimately “sank” Armstrong’s tenure misses the bigger lessons for Columbia and anyone else managing or communicating through a crisis.
The fact of the matter is, meeting details would have probably leaked anyway. Any attendee could have easily recorded the call, taken notes or simply recounted the meeting to reporters afterward. (In fact, at least one professor on the call spoke to Summers for the New York piece.)
Sure, having a transcript made it easier for the eager leakers and journalists, but it was a lack of trust between the administration and faculty that caused it. The protests and political blowback that started in October 2023 accelerated an erosion of trust that had been underway for years, if not decades. It was the result of Columbia repeatedly violating the core principles of crisis response that management either didn’t know, or chose to reject.
Here are three principles Columbia neglected:
Don’t make management decisions—especially long-term ones—amid a crisis
Columbia’s first mistake predates its most recent leaders and highlights the often-unpredictable risks of making big decisions in the heat of the moment.
The New York article notes that Columbia’s current crisis—largely driven by its response to disruptive protests on campus—has been complicated by its model of shared governance, which created a power struggle among the board of trustees, the administration and its faculty/student senate. This governance model was itself “conceived in crisis” as a response to antiwar activists occupying buildings to protest the Vietnam War in 1968.
The pressure cooker of crisis often tempts leaders to take drastic steps they hope will put the issue to rest, without taking the time to think through unintended consequences. Boards and executive leadership teams should think through how they’ll respond in crisis—not to mention how they’ll handle long-term governance—before a crisis happens, so they can take a thoughtful and strategic approach and avoid over-responding.
Know who you are, and stick to your guns
In an era of U.S. history increasingly defined by polarization and tribalism, many institutions try to occupy a middle ground that will please both sides. They quickly find out that the middle ground is a myth.
Armstrong’s predecessor, Minouche Safik, demonstrated this principle during an April 2024 congressional hearing where she broke ranks with her counterparts from other institutions in acknowledging that Columbia had an antisemitism problem. “If this placated congressional Republicans for a nanosecond,” Summers writes, “it permanently lost whatever goodwill she had left with the Columbia rank and file.”
More from UB: Why reduced international students could be disastrous for higher ed
Whether Columbia actually did have an antisemitism problem isn’t even all that relevant. What mattered here is that the leadership of the university wasn’t aligned on whether it had a problem, not to mention what to do about it. That led spokespeople to share different messages with different audiences.
The lack of decisiveness and clarity fueled a perception that Columbia was weak, making it an ideal target for activists on both sides of the political aisle. The lesson for other boards and executives is that if you try to please everyone, you’ll likely alienate them all.
Stay on message and present a united front
Crisis communication and management only work if you practice message discipline. Decision-makers can hash out differences privately, but they must present a united front outside the boardroom. In Columbia’s case, however, rogue trustees undermined the integrity of the institution’s message by leaking confidential deliberations to the press. Some boards wisely prohibit members from speaking on behalf of the institution individually, but addressing deeper cultural issues within the board is vital to ensure compliance.
Summers recounts one instance in which a trustee (or more than one) leaked information about the board’s deliberations to The Wall Street Journal in an apparent attempt to influence its decision. This kind of tactic is common in high-profile institutions, but it’s poison to the broader culture.
This recent New York article is evidence that they’re still doing it. At least a few Columbia trustees were among the article’s 60 sources, with Summers noting that “members of the board of trustees give different accounts of who broke up with whom” in the termination of Armstrong’s interim presidency.
There are a host of ways a trustee might rationalize undermining the institution’s leaders, contradicting its message and tarnishing its reputation by participating in a media feeding frenzy over its trials and tribulations. Ultimately, it boils down to putting personal priorities ahead of the institution’s.
If a board—whose members have a fiduciary duty to do what’s best for the institution—can’t follow basic principles of crisis management, what hope does its institution have for weathering a crisis with its reputation intact?
