Doublethink (2): Chancellors, deans, corporate boards & vet med (#462)

George Orwell gave us a useful little word for a very modern problem:

Doublethink.

The ability to hold two conflicting ideas in your head at the same time, and to believe both.

In Orwell’s 1984 it sounded extreme: “2 + 2 = 5” and “2 + 2 = 4” living side by side in the same brain.

Today, we don’t have a 1984 Ministry of Truth, but we do have something more polite and better dressed:

University leaders who are expected to be wholly dedicated to the public good,

while also serving as directors of large corporations with very different priorities.

You don’t need the torture chambers of 1984 to produce doublethink. A corner office, a boardroom and some careful press releases can be enough.

What follows is my personal view as a veterinarian and academic about how this plays out in veterinary medicine and university leadership.

Chancellor May and Leidos (The Tension)

At UC Davis, Chancellor Gary May has for several years worn two hats:

• One as the public-facing leader of a land-grant university that prides itself on serving students, the state, and the wider public.

• Another as a member of the Board of Directors of Leidos, a major defense and technology contractor.

Both roles are perfectly legal. Both are described, on paper, in warm, reassuring language: innovation, partnerships, leadership, community.

But the underlying commitments are not the same.

• As Chancellor, May is supposed to safeguard academic independence, nurture critical thinking, and ensure that research agendas are driven by scientific merit and public interest.

• As a Leidos director, May has a fiduciary duty to help a for-profit corporation grow, compete, and increase shareholder value.

  
  

That is what corporate boards exist to do.

We are generally reassured that these two roles do not meaningfully conflict.

We are told, explicitly and implicitly, that:

Chancellor May is a neutral public servant, acting solely in the best interests of the university,

And that

Chancellor May is a corporate fiduciary, helping a powerful contractor succeed.

We are told that both roles are not only compatible, but entirely harmonious.

To me, that is present-day doublethink in a nutshell.

The tension is there for anyone to see.

The challenge is that it can feel easier not to look too closely at it.

Dean Stetter and Zoetis (A Parallel Case)

Now, take that same transparency sheet and lay it over the veterinary side of the UC Davis campus.

Dean Mark Stetter, who leads the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine, recently joined the Board of Directors of Zoetis, the world’s largest animal health pharmaceutical company.

Again, nothing illegal.

Again, the language is soothing.

• Zoetis talks about advancing animal health, supporting veterinarians, and driving innovation.

• The Vet School talks about partnerships and industry engagement.

Everyone smiles for the photo.

But look at the structure:

• As Dean, Stetter is ultimately responsible for the veterinary curriculum, the teaching hospital, and the culture in which students and house officers learn how to diagnose, prescribe, and treat animals.

• As a Zoetis director, Stetter now has a legal duty to help a company that sells many of the drugs, biologics, vaccines and diagnostics those same veterinarians will be trained to use.

Do those two missions line up perfectly, with no friction at all?

I cannot see how they do, but that is what we are gently invited to assume.

The message, in effect, is:

Our veterinary training and prescribing practices are completely independent and evidence-based,

and at the same time,

It is unproblematic that the person ultimately responsible for those training and prescribing environments also serves on the board of a major manufacturer whose products are part of that ecosystem.

Is that impossible? No.

Is it obviously conflict-free? Many people, myself included, would say No.

It appears very much like a conflict of interest, and, just as importantly, a potential conflict of commitment.

To keep everyone comfortable, we often smooth the edges. We call it synergy.

We highlight the Dean’s expertise and the company’s generosity. Very little plain-language explanation is typically offered to students, faculty, clients, and donors about what board service involves - the time, the compensation, and the nature of the loyalty that directors owe to the corporation.

This, in my view, is where doublethink begins to creep in.

Both May's and Stetter’s corporate directorships tend to be defended in the same way:

• They are portrayed as honors - recognition of personal expertise.

• They are also treated as side gigs - small, tidy commitments that do not in any way distract from their day jobs.

But look at how these positions are described to investors.

Corporate boards generally offer substantial compensation because they expect meaningful time, influence, and judgment. Directors sit on committees, review strategy, oversee risk, and vote on decisions that shape the company’s future.

So which story is true?

Either,

Board service is substantial enough that it justifies significant compensation and carries real responsibility to shareholders,

Or,

Board service is so insubstantial that it poses no conflict of commitment for a full-time university leader and no risk of skewing institutional priorities.

Both stories can’t be fully true in every case.

Yet we are often encouraged to hold them simultaneously. That is doublethink again:

Important enough to pay for.

Trivial enough to ignore.

Why This Matters More in Veterinary Medicine

Some might shrug:

• Everyone does this.

• Universities need ties to industry.

• What’s the harm?

In veterinary medicine, the overlap is particularly intimate:

• Vet schools train the next generation of prescribers.

• Teaching hospitals create habits - which brands are on the shelf, which products are seen as standard, which companies are simply part of the furniture.

• Faculty research, often sponsored in part by industry, feeds marketing claims and product adoption.

When the Dean of a veterinary school joins the board of the largest animal-health pharma company, it is not, in my view, a neutral extra. It sends a signal about whose voices may be closest to the microphone and whose interests may quietly shape the agenda.

Does that mean Zoetis is evil? No.

Does it mean the Dean is corrupt? No.

It means the system is now configured so that one person is being asked to serve two sets of interests that overlap in some areas and diverge sharply in others.

Instead of explicitly acknowledging that tension and managing it out in the open, it can be left largely unspoken.

Or, at times, those who raise the tension may feel discouraged from dwelling on it.

For me, that quiet avoidance is the real problem.

This is not about declaring Gary May or Mark Stetter to be villains. I have no doubt they both believe they are acting in the best interests of UC Davis.

But doublethink is not primarily a moral failing; it is a structural convenience.

When the rules are loose, the money is good, and the prestige is flattering, it becomes very easy to tell ourselves that:

My corporate role will help the university

and

My university role will help the company

and therefore,

There is no real conflict to worry about.

Meanwhile, faculty, students, staff, clients, and the public are left to wonder whose interests come first when the chips are down.

If we care about trust in veterinary medicine, and about the integrity of our profession’s flagship institutions, I believe we must move beyond this comfortable doublethink.

What We Could Do Instead

We could start with some straightforward steps:

• Clearer conflict-of-interest and conflict-of-commitment policies for senior leaders, especially deans and chancellors.

• Bright lines around serving on boards of companies that materially interact with the school’s clinical and research operations. For example: if you lead a veterinary teaching hospital, perhaps you do not sit on the board of a major animal-health manufacturer at the same time.

• Plain-language disclosure to faculty, students, residents, staff, clients, and donors whenever such relationships do exist, including the nature of the role and the form of compensation.

• Independent oversight of how industry money flows into curricula, research, scholarships, teaching awards, and hospital purchasing decisions.

None of this is radical.

It is simply choosing transparency and good governance over comfortable doublethink.

Rick’s Commentary

Doublethink thrives when we decide that looking closely is just too awkward.

Easier to shrug. Easier to say that’s how the world works. Easier to scroll on.

But veterinary medicine is already under intense pressure from corporate consolidation, private equity ownership, and growing industry influence.

The least we can ask of our academic leaders is that their loyalties be clear, their outside commitments transparent, and their potential conflicts visible rather than buried in footnotes.

We don’t live in Orwell’s 1984 Oceania.

No one is forcing us to say 2 + 2 = 5.

But if we quietly accept that our university and veterinary leaders can serve two masters without ever openly acknowledging the tension, we are edging closer to Orwell’s world than we might like to admit.

And unlike Winston Smith in 1984, we still have the option to say, calmly, firmly, and publicly, that this doesn’t quite add up, and that we can design something better.

Note: This essay reflects my personal opinions and interpretations, based on publicly available information about university leadership roles and corporate boards. It is intended as commentary on governance and ethics in veterinary education, not as an allegation of misconduct or illegality by any individual.

#bunyipsbooksbeyond