Mission Obsession: Don’t be the Thanos of Higher Ed
If you read the title of this blog and thought, “Oh no! She’s going to use comic book villains to highlight some important points about institutional missions!” buckle up, buttercup, because you’re 100% right.
We’ve been talking a lot about missions lately. If you’ve read our previous blogs on this topic, you’re probably ready to say, “Ok, already! We get it. We have a mission, and we will stop at nothing until we accomplish it.” Congratulations, you’re on your way to becoming a super villain. Your mission is critical, but equally as critical is how you go about achieving that mission.
Nothing destroys a good story quicker than a poorly-written villain. You know the ones—predictable, one-dimensional, and evil for no discernable reason (think 80s cartoons – Skeletor, Mumm-Ra, Gargamel, Cobra Commander). A good villain is committed to a mission, but, stay with me here, the best villains are committed to missions to make the world a better place. Don’t believe me? I came prepared:
Thanos: The periwinkle menace of the MCU (Marvel Comic Universe, for you comic novices).
Thanos is concerned. He’s worried that overpopulation of the universe will lead to upheaval, competition for resources, conflict, war, and destruction. His mission is to create stability and harmony throughout the universe by setting its inhabitants up for success and then retiring to a quiet, peaceful life. On the whole, this is a beautiful, selfless mission.
Poison Ivy: Botanist, Ecoterrorist, Toxicology Enthusiast
Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley was a brilliant biochemist and botanist whose life and career was derailed by a seriously messed up interaction with one of her professors. She then turns her considerable abilities to achieving her mission to protect the natural world (plants, in particular) from the threat of human violence and destruction. Again, a noble and altruistic mission.
Magneto: The greatest villain of all time (and yes, this is a hill I will die on)
Erik Lensherr is an orphaned Holocaust survivor, who repeatedly tries to heal from trauma and live a peaceful life. His constant suffering at the hands of humans leads him to a Hamlet-esque descent into vengeance and, ultimately, to become Magneto. Having witnessed first-hand the cruelty that humans can inflict upon those they deem “different,” Magneto’s mission is to protect his fellow mutants from humanity’s threats, so that they may live freely and openly.
Taken at face value, these missions are compelling, ethical, and virtuous. We run into problems, though, when we start looking at how our villains go about achieving these missions, i.e., when they start getting murdery. I know you think this would never be you, and, I mean, these are obviously exaggerated examples; I’m not saying you are a would-be murderer. However, when you have a great mission that you’re passionate about, it can be easy to slip into a “the ends will justify the means” mindset. You might not be ready to swap out your blazer for a shiny leather body suit (or maybe you are, no judgement), but you might be tempted to take some shortcuts. This happens slowly and gradually. It becomes easy to rationalize questionable decisions if they ultimately serve a good mission, but, before you know it, you’re building a secret lair, constructing an alter-ego, and cackling a bit more than you’d like.
Luckily for all of us, there are mechanisms institutions can put in place to circumvent the slide into what we are calling “Mission Obsession”–the willingness to achieve your mission at any cost.
Board of Directors – Your Board is your first line of defense against accidental villainy, so pick them carefully. These people share in your mission and are committed to the long-term viability and reputation of your institution. They should weigh in on big decisions and have the integrity and authority to tell you, “No, it’s not a good idea to derail a train or blow up a bridge, even if it would bring media attention to our school and arguably advance our mission.”
Accreditation – Accreditation is a peer-review process whereby you say, “I’m going to be accountable, responsible, and not a supervillain.” In the United States, accreditation is kind of like joining the Avengers. You’re voluntarily committing to work with your peers to achieve a greater and broader mission—furthering the progress and efficacy of higher education. In return, they help you make sure your institution is staying on track (i.e., not blowing up mainstays of infrastructure to get a shout-out in the Daily Planet). You welcome additional oversight and keep meticulous documentation so that your institution doesn’t cut corners, commit crimes, or take over the world in order to achieve its mission. Even when a dubious shortcut looks appealing, you won’t take it because you’ve taken a higher oath; you’re a part of Something Bigger.
All jokes and nerdy references aside, we all have it in us to take shortcuts or justify dubious choices under the right circumstances. We each chose the world of Higher Education because of the mission, because we could help lift up our humans and change the world in a meaningful way. This kind of powerful directive is something that people will make great sacrifices for, but the means to an end always matter. There’s no shame in being passionate about a mission. That’s part of the reason that accountability structures exist; they act as guardrails to our ambition. They keep us on the right path. A well-chosen Board can help steer decisions that serve both the mission and the broader ethos of ethical higher education at the same time. Accreditation opens up an institution to healthy scrutiny and demonstrates to the public that the institution has met standards of excellence. We are passionate about this process (but not enough to destroy the moon with a laser or anything).
“Everything I've done... all those terrible things... the pain I've inflicted... on others... on you... was to make the world a better place for mutants. When people look back at my actions... through the lens of history... I want them to see I was right. I wanted mutants to rule. Now... I just want them to survive.” —Magneto (Vol 3 18)
