The Man Who Cooled M.I.T.

"The institute came through a real test. Violence didn't succeed in radicalizing the student body, and peaceful dissent is stronger than ever. I believe this had significance for this institution --and for every other." So said Howard W. Johnson, president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, reflecting last week on M.I.T.'s success in coping with the recent demonstrations against the institute's deep involvement in Pentagon-backed defense research (TIME, Nov. 14). The rainy New England weather helped to dampen the militants. But it was Johnson's own administrative acumen that defused what could have been the first major campus explosion of the new academic year.

Johnson's success was above all a triumph of face-to-face communication. The process really began last spring, when he suspended classes for a day and held a mass convocation to debate M.I.T.'s role in society. This fall, when he learned that militants were planning disruptions in November, he immediately began canvassing students and faculty--in dormitories, at informal "rap" sessions and on the street. Patiently explaining his position, he gathered support for a plan that will gradually shift a large portion of M.I.T.'s research from military to social needs.

Two weeks before the scheduled "militant action," Johnson asked the faculty to endorse the use of force if necessary to defend the campus--and received a standing ovation. Then, with a day to go, he obtained a court order restraining the demonstrators from violence. When the police finally moved against the demonstrators, it was the judge's responsibility, not M.I.T.'s.

Guiding Principle. A noted expert in personnel and industrial relations, Johnson, 47, has earned rare trust during his three years as president. Even his severest critics respect him deeply. Says Linguist Noam Chomsky, the fervent antiwar leader: "He's an honest, honorable man." One reason Johnson inspires confidence is that he combines high energy with a low-key manner. "He's open-minded, unflappable, and doesn't get hooked on a single idea," says Provost Jerome Wiesner. Johnson, for example, laid down no rigid contingency plans for the demonstrations. His guiding principle, he says, was to stay flexible and avoid painting the administration into an ideological corner.

The son of an accountant at a steel mill, Johnson grew up in a tough Chicago neighborhood and studied economics at the city's Central College. After serving as an Army sergeant in Europe and Africa during World War II. he got an M.A. from the University of Chicago and joined the faculty, teaching economics and business management.

Lured to M.I.T. in 1955, Johnson became dean of the School of Industrial

Management in four years. By 1965, some of the challenge had gone out of the job, and he accepted an offer to become executive vice president of the Cincinnati-based Federated Department Stores. Before he had even settled into the new job, M.I.T. tapped him to be the Institute's twelfth president. Putting aside thoughts of stock options, executive bonuses and a six-figure salary, Johnson sold the Cincinnati house he had never lived in and resumed his ac| ademic career.

"A president should be active, visible and accountable," says Johnson, who agrees with Yale's Kingman Brewster that the performance of university presidents should be reviewed periodically --and ended if need be. Johnson arrives at his huge square desk by 8 a.m. and seldom returns home before midnight. He spends his evenings with students and faculty to keep up with their ideas, an activity he finds not unpleasant but timeconsuming. "Those who want to see me come to the office," he says, "but I have to go out and find the people I want to see."

Johnson has a quick sense of humor and is the first to chuckle at his campus nickname "Ho Jo," after the restaurant chain with 28 flavors of ice cream. Deep down, he is also pugnacious. During the demonstrations, he avoided his office, fearing that if the militants came to seize it, he would personally put up a tussle.

Reorienting Priorities. In calmer times, Johnson has been trying to redefine M.I.T.'s role in a fast-changing technological society. One of his main goals is to expand the social consciousness of future scientists and engineers. He has tried to make the curriculum as flexible as possible, with special emphasis on the humanities.

The proper role for research at M.I.T. is still Johnson's biggest problem. "The first task of this institute is education and research," he says, "and I don't differentiate between the two. The classroom and the laboratories are connected in a dynamic way." Though Johnson thinks that M.I.T., like the nation, is expending too many resources on defense work, he does not oppose all military research. Indeed, he considers it an essential deterrent to war. "This institute must constantly try to relate technology to man's purposes," he says. "And that means basic research for defense as well as a larger concern for other human needs."

Johnson concedes that reorienting M.I.T.'s research priorities away from the military and toward the civilian may prove as difficult as reorienting the nation's. Funds for social projects are not exactly pouring out of the Nixon Administration. Even so, Johnson is optimistic. "The big money isn't there now, but the interest is," he says, "and the money will be there when we need it." Realistically, thinks Johnson, the process of redirecting priorities will take three to five years.

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