“We have found a witch, may we burn her?”
“How do you know she is a witch?”
“She looks like one!”
-Monty Python
Over winter break, Wesleyan was hit with a scandal, the likes of which has rarely been seen on our beloved campus: Thomas Kannam, the erstwhile Chief Investment Officer for the University, resigned under mysterious circumstances, only later to be sued by the University for $3 million. Allegedly, Mr. Kannam used his privileged position as the University’s investment manager to help other friends of his in the corporate world, failed to disclose his membership on several boards to Wesleyan, utilized University resources for his other associates without repayment, and abused his University stipend to undertake ventures unrelated to Wesleyan. Kannam also, allegedly, deliberately hid these under-the-table ventures by moving himself to a secluded office in Wesleyan’s investment building, far from the prying eyes of administrators, and gave this lair the politically incorrect nickname of “The Taj.”
Ordinarily, one would not expect matters of high finance to interest the general public. However, given the malfeasance of figures such as Bernie Madoff and the prevailing anti-banker sentiments around the country, the Kannam scandal has excited students, faculty and Connecticut residents beyond all expectations. The initial Argus article on the Kannam suit has garnered over 100 comments on its website; enraged former activists have crawled out of the woodwork to whine about how mean Kannam was to them, as Erik Rosenberg ’08 did in his Wespeak on Feb. 2; and, perhaps most surprisingly of all, Connecticut Attorney General and Democratic Senate frontrunner Richard “Dick” Blumenthal has decided to take the step of investigating Kannam and his associate Ralph Gill himself. A sense of populist rage has embroiled the campus, and this author would not be surprised, should Kannam be forced to forfeit the $3 million the University is suing him for, if all of it would be spent purchasing the sharpest pitchforks possible for the students to use on him.
Speaking for myself, I hope they save their money, given that this case has provided me with a peculiar level of agony – on the one hand, the proud (yes, proud) Wesleyan student in me is screaming for Kannam’s blood. On the other hand, the amateur law student in me finds the whole business to be highly suspect. And in this case, given that a scream for Kannam’s blood relies solely on blind acceptance of the facts presented by an interested party, the lawyer has won. However, while I will analyze the various legal questions present in the case, I would like to be quite clear that my argument calls for the suspension of judgment until the affair has concluded; it does not declare that Kannam is innocent—though for all we know, he may be.
Obviously, assuming the breaches of contract which this paper has documented turn out to be genuine, Kannam should be made to pay damages. However, even the reporters responsible have acknowledged that these are alleged breaches, rather than factual ones. Moreover, some of the sources provided by the administration to prove Kannam’s guilt have not actually been validated. For instance, the authors of the article on Kannam write that “the University released what it claims are some of Kannam’s email correspondences.”
It should be noted that the University’s claim has not been substantiated in court, nor has it been subject to an evidentiary challenge, which at the very least should raise some suspicion. Moreover, there is little to no context given to the quotes that The Argus has provided. This raises the question of whether they were cherry-picked for maximum damning effectiveness.
Additionally, it is unclear to what extent the University was aware of Kannam’s activities, and also to what extent it sanctioned them, so long as he continued to produce gains for our investments. As one commenter on The Argus’ website put it, “we are looking foolish in the public eye because if this guy was really so bad, why the heck did we say how wonderful he was for 11 years? I don’t think [Wesleyan President Michael] Roth thought this through at all.”
Naturally, if the University thought Kannam truly was wonderful, then this bit of gullibility cannot be helped; but at the point where Kannam’s expenditures were allegedly so outrageous that they justify a $3 million suit, one wonders just how Wesleyan administrators missed his malfeasance. This question will, doubtlessly, be answered in trial, as will the attendant point about whether Kannam’s action contributed to harming Wesleyan’s endowment.
However, to speak more generally, even if Kannam is guilty in fact, this is a fact that has yet to be proven. As such, the almost witch hunt-esque atmosphere which has built up around his case on campus is both unjustified and fundamentally troubling. Recently, the senior class actively and rightfully “flexed its critical thinking muscles” and voted down an attempt to swindle ourselves in the name of philanthropy, yet where Tom Kannam is concerned, we appear to have forgotten the age old adage that one is “innocent until proven guilty.”
Naturally, Wesleyan and Kannam have both been releasing separate, contradictory stories about what happened. This is a necessary element of any public relations battle before a major trial. Yet, faced with both stories, the students have, for what may be the first time in my Wesleyan career, sided reflexively with the administration and the criminal justice system—even when the student body has historically, and reflexively, done the opposite. Is it merely indignation on the part of our beloved “old Wesleyan” and our solemn pledge to “fight ’til the end when might and right shall win?” Or, perhaps, is it simply the fact, unlike other “victims,” Tom Kannam is a wealthy, successful, privileged person—in short, everything the campus hates? If it is the former, we are lucky. If it is the latter, then all one can say is that “The Independent Ivy” deserves better than Erik Rosenberg.