Just what constitutes "reasonable prospects of a permanency"? Dunlop would rather not say. He maintains that a general definition cannot be codified. "I don't mind two or three people competing for a vacancy," he commented. "But I will not see the debasement of the associate professorship by having ten guys competing for one spot."

As dean of the Faculty, Dunlop must approve the promotions that each department recommends. This year, he cracked down on promotions and required department chairmen to justify each new appointment. He identifies two reasons for this policy: "We are interested in getting the best possible people, in looking outside as well as inside; and we want the record clear with regard to equal employment opportunities." He does not mention a third reason--the financial difficulties which demand stringency.

WHATEVER HIS reasons, Dunlop last Fall vetoed the Government Department's recommendation to promote two assistant professors, Robert L. Jervis and James R. Kurth, to the rank of associate professor. You can only promote one, Dunlop told Department chairman James Q. Wilson. When Wilson then presented a Department recommendation to promote Jervis and let Kurth go, supporters of the more radical Kurth protested vehemently. After a couple of months of bickering, Dunlop finally agreed to let the two promotions go through.

Both Jervis and Kurth specialize in international relations. Dunlop's original reluctance to promote two men and let them compete for one vacancy may stem from his recognition that in the field of international relations, only half a vacancy exists. Presumably, both Kurth and Jervis are now vying for the spot that Henry A. Kissinger '50 once occupied. But Kissinger is only half gone. Although Dunlop says, "As far as I'm concerned he has resigned." the chairman of the Government Department says that Kissinger can return to his place if, sometime in November, he communicates his intention to leave the Nixon Administration by the end of the year. The place that Kurth and Jervis are competing for may soon be no place at all.

No matter what happens, Kurth and Jervis are relatively fortunate. If they were in the History Department, they would probably be out looking for jobs. The History Department has never appointed a non-tenured associate professor. By interpreting the Dunlop report's guidelines so strictly, the Department in effect has cut a man's trial period down to four years. Under the old system, an instructor who showed promise in his first couple of years would be rehired and would have five additional years to prove himself before his contract came up for review. Today a man with a Ph.D. starts as an assistant professor. He has four years before his appointment is reviewed. If his department interprets the term "promise" broadly, he will have another three years to produce written work. But if his department, like the History Department, thinks that to promote a man to associate professor is to promise him a tenured position, the assistant professor will have only four years to write a distinguished book.

Most people can't do it. When Charles Maier's contract came up for review last winter, his book was still in manuscript. While that may have been a factor in his case, the tenure bid of his colleague, Samuel R. Williamson, was also shot down. And Williamson had already written one prize-winning book and had another book in the works.

The regulation that a man must have published a book of proven value is one of those rules that can be cited or waived, depending on the sentiments of the department. For example, Edward L. Keenan '57, received tenure almost two years before his book on Ivan the Terrible was published. Patrick L.R. Higonnet '58 who, like Keenan, became a professor in Spring, 1970, also had no published book at the time of his appointment. So even in the History Department, a man can get tenure without having completed a book. And while scholars in some other fields produce primarily articles, historians are normally judged by the merits of their books.

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Dear Miss Getachair,

I am an assistant professor. I have been offered the job of Senior Tutor. Should I accept?   HESITANT

Dear Hesitant,

As Senior Tutor, you will receive a secretary, a telephone, a free house, a private office, and a sure shot at a tenured position...at any university but Harvard.

After all the administrative drudgery that Senior Tutors perform, they must find it disheartening to learn that the position hurts, rather than helps their chances for promotion in the Faculty. Since the post was created in 1952, there have been 63 non-tenured Senior Tutors. Six of them have become tenured professors at Harvard. "Most Senior Tutors do not make it at Harvard unless they're given tenure at the time of their appointment," observed Charles P. Whitlock, who as dean of the College acts as chairman of the Administrative Board of Senior Tutors. "But most Senior Tutors go on to be full professors at other colleges," he added.

When asked if he thought the job of Senior Tutor of Kirkland House hurt his prospects for tenure, Sam Williamson said only, "It didn't help." Williamson served as Senior Tutor during the hectic days of radical political activity. The chores of the position eat away research time. They also prevent a man from building his departmental reputation and keep him from doing the requisite number of favors for his senior colleagues.

Even if a man stretches his days to the bursting point, he will find his record as Senior Tutor a hindrance. Departments do more than ignore a man's contribution as Senior Tutor; they often count it against him. Academics apparently prefer scholars who are strictly scholars and not administrators, too. The Senior Tutors who make good usually have House Masters slugging for them in their own department: consider Mason Hammond and Ernest May in Kirkland House; John Bullitt and Joel Porte in Quincy House; and Eliot Perkins and Franklin Ford in Lowell House.