In a second AAU study of the same subject, which Pusey helped draft last April, the organization (whose members were by this time receiving 77 per cent of all federal aid to universities) urged "a substantially increased investment by the Federal Government." This report makes no mention at all of the problems of federal control from federal aid.

In a speech at Clark Kerr's inauguration as president of Berkeley in 1958. Pusey also warned of government influence:

There is no reason to deny that the initial impetus toward many of the research efforts now going forward at any moment in a university can come safely from outside--from the needs of the military, or industry, or from some other quarter of our complex society; but never in my judgment should all or even a preponderant part of our research programs so derive. For the kind of research effort which alone can safely maintain the life of a true university is one into which an imaginative scholar is led not by outside pressures but by his own curiosity.

Within six years after Pusey's speech, the federal government was financing 72 per cent of all university research (1964 is the latest NSF figure), and today the share is estimated at 86 per cent. At Harvard, virtually all scientific research is government-supported. (See Harvard and the Federal Government. A Report to the Faculties and Governing Boards of Harvard University, 1961.)

The reason that attitudes toward federal money have changed so much is that the need for federal money has increased. The AAU report and the Carnegie report (which Pusey also helped draft), the two most significant studies of federal financing, merely advocate a greatly increased role for the federal government in universities, to save universities from going broke. University administrators are looking for money desperately. Despite is $1 billion in assets, Harvard is getting into deep trouble too. At this point, the universities need the money. They are concerned about obvious cases of direct federal intervention in university affairs. Pusey, for example, turned down thousands of dollars in scholarship money under NDEA because of an objectionable security affidavit. Last year, he strongly protested the "anti-riot" amendments to cut of federal aid to students and faculty who participate in campus disorders (but he took the money anyway). He has forbidden secret research on campus (but professors can do it as "consultants"). This concern with "direct control" is largely misplaced. The federal government itself, especially the federal agencies that provide most of the funds, generally opposes direct control itself for the same reason it opposes general aid--it is not its business to meddle in the affairs of universities, unless other political stakes are involved. As long as the permanent government gets its research product, it is happy.

The real problem is dependence. The government, to a large degree, has created its own need for itself among the universities. It is not merely a case of the universities needing money and the government providing it; the government has built up large scale scientific research as an almost totally new function for universities, a function that only the federal government can finance. The increase in total costs for universities--the ostensible reason that they need federal funds--can be linked to the rapid in flux--can be linked to the rapid influx of federal funds itself. Between 1957 and 1967, federal funding of universities in America increased 400 per cent, nearly all of this money going to research. During that same period, non-federal expenses increased only 200 per cent. At Harvard, during the same period, total university expenses tripled, government funding increased more than 10-fold (from $4.5 million to $55 million), while non-government spending barely doubled (from $46 million to $96 million). It is doubtful that universities would have invested so massively in research all by themselves, without government support.

As the sale of the research product become more and more profitable to universities (especially after sputnik in 1957), the universities began to reorient their resources--and their own concept of their function--to be able to provide the product more easily. The universities developed a deep dependence on the government, which caused them to anticipate what the government wanted from them and brought them to believe the government's interests were the same as their won. "Like many other Americans, the scientist does not like to be told what to do, but he will gratefully accept a clue as to what will sell so he than can suggest it himself," wrote Michael Maccoby in a perceptive article in Dissent five years ago.

Federal money is not something that the university can just take or leave as it wishes. Since universities use it to finance other parts of their operation, it becomes a basic component of the whole organism. Universities build structures around their federal money, structures that will collapse if the money is suddenly withdrawn.

At Harvard, the Atomic Energy Commission has announced that it is beginning to stabilize the $6.5 million that it provides the university each year to operate the Cambridge Electron Accelerator, which cost the government $20 million to build nearly 10 years ago. The AEC has told Harvard that it will not pay the normal five to six per cent inflationary increase next year, reportedly because of general cutbacks due to the Vietnam War and because of the disenchantment with the further weapons implications of fission physics. The university is forced to find more then $300,000 elsewhere or discontinue many of the projects--weapons implications or not--that involve the Accelerator and perhaps fire some of the 14 researchers who work there.

This kind of dependence has developed because the federal government pays a large amount of the indirect costs associated with the research it sponsors. Indirect costs are expenses that cannot be associated with particular projects, such as departmental administration, maintenance of the physical plant, heat, water, even the hiring of an additional accountant or the construction and outfitting of a new laboratory. Many agencies put ceilings on indirect costs they will pay for a project as a percentage of direct costs (even though the relationship between the two varies enormously with the type of project, regardless of total expense). At the average university, indirect costs paid by the government represent 50 per cent of direct costs (at Princeton, it was 80 per cent last year), and universities claim that this is still not enough. Congress thinks it is too much, and a plan, offered by Mike Mansfield, is being considered to lower the ceiling to 25 per cent. Universities are in a double bind. If they pay the indirect costs themselves, they will be making large commitments in areas of government research interests (mainly the physical sciences and engineering) that cannot be used elsewhere. And, paying indirect costs means making partial investment under the assumption that the government pays the other part. If the government does not, the university will be faced with firing personnel and discontining programs. On the other hand, if the government is allowed to assume all indirect costs, as the universities are now urging it to do, then the government will effectively be determining the entire research policy of the universities, even certain hiring practices.

A second area of serious dependence is the payment of faculty salaries. The most recent survey, conducted seven years ago by the Brookings Institution, shows that at ten large universities, one-quarter of the tenured social scientists and scientists receive part of their salary from the federal government, and one-tenth of the scientists receive half or more from federal funds. At Harvard, all senior faculty members are paid with university funds, but professors may receive outside income from the federal government. Forty-four per cent of Harvard's professors have an outside income that exceeds one-third of their Harvard salary (see Dunlop Report, 1968); most of this is from the government. The 1400 teaching fellows and research appointees receive extremely heavy federal support. There are some hidden dependencies too. Many faculty members go on leaves of absence without university pay, retaining their tenure status, to work on federal contracts or to take a federal job. One administrator in a large university has said that if all professors on such leave were to return to the university simultaneously, there would not be enough money to pay them. At Harvard in a recent year, five per cent of all tenured faculty members were on leaves of absence working for federal agencies; an additional 10 per cent were doing research on federal travel grants.

The result of all this is that universities like Harvard have become full fledged arms of the federal government. This is very hard for them to admit, because they consider themselves benign institutions, and they believe the influence of the government on them has been benign too. University administrators admit that the Vietnam War is very bad (they try to out-epithet each other on how "bad," "disgusting," "shocking," etc. it is) and that racism is all around us. But they refuse to admit that the university is an institution that is participating in this sort of thing. they do not enjoy being the target of rebellion. After all, they brought these kids up, taught them why they should hate this society, and gave them the freedom to play at revolution. Pusey said in a speech at the Business School two weeks after the University Hall occupation: "Their [the students'] concern is not with the universities at all. That is where they happen to be. Their aim is to build a movement to politicize and radicalize American society. It is just plain unfair to pick on universities--tat is the word from the New York Times and all over. But the university is the logical institution to attack not only because students live there, but because it, alone among institutions, must be left free to criticize the federal government and al of society. The university, however unconspiratorially and politely, has been taken over by the federal government. It cannot tell the government's interests from its own. It must be set free again.

The students are the conservatives in all of this. They do not quite know about the new university yet, the "federal grant" institution, as Kerr called it in his Godkin Lectures in 1963. The undergraduates are almost totally unaffected by federal money. Far from being the ones who have torn down the ivory tower in an attempt to politicize the university, as such commentators as Kennan and Reston, would have us believe, they are the ones who are trying to de politicize the university, to rebuild the ivory tower. The thrust of the original Six SDS demands was that the federal government should get out of the university (and that the university should get out of the community)--not that some other political power should replace it. SDS did not ask the university to take a political stand against the Vietnam War, as Marbury stated in his Baltimore interview (that is a ridiculous thing to believe; the days of that kind of symbolic gesture are over). It did not ask the university to back a radical slate for the Cambridge City Council or to invest money in the Black Panther Party the way it invests in Middle South Utilities. SDS asked the university to stop doing things that preserve the political power of the men now in control of this nation. "We want universities that stand in critical detachment from the existing order," said Henry Norr '68, a Harvard SDS leader, at the Business School.

Marbury's statements indicate that government involvement is the reason that the Corporation wants to keep ROTC. An interview with Pusey hours after the bust indicates that the reason he called in the police to beat students and get them out of University Hall was again government involvement. In an interview with CRIMSON President James M. Fallows, Pusey said: "The issue of the behavior of revolution-minded people is a national phenomenon. The patience of the general public is exhausted. . . . People who live in an academic community and who are not aware of this national mood are not thinking about the protection of the academic community." Pusey was protecting the academic community from having its federal funds cut off, as several bills in congress threaten to do to universities that cannot handle student disorders. On the night in April when he decided to call in the police, Pusey was looking n a direction that few others at Harvard were looking--toward the outside, toward Congress, and toward a constituency that private universities have tried to avoid, the whole vast public of the United States. No wonder Pusey called the ivory tower "a laughably grotesque symbol" in his 1967-68 Annual Report.

Pusey's Harvard is a university that accepts the interests of the nation (or more precisely, of the men who run the nation) as its own. A Harvard report on government funding issued by Pusey in 1961 concludes: "The university no longer expects to avoid involvement in public affairs, for its is by now all too clear that free universities and free political institutions are interdependent and their futures intertwined." At Harvard this past month, there were many people who did not think that their futures should be intertwined--not only because they did not like what the free political institutions were doing in Vietnam and in various ghettoes, but also because the free universities were not acting like universities, but instead like political institutions.