Profile on Professor Richard Dekmejian - April 2007

Class fills up slowly. Arriving students chat amongst themselves. Today is supposed to be the day they get their World Political Leadership midterms back, but those things are never assured. There’s a nervous energy coursing through the lecture hall, and there’s no way for students to distract themselves, as the long reach of wireless Internet fails to reach this room.

The biggest rush of students comes a minute or so after class is scheduled to start. By this point in the semester, they all know Professor Richard Dekmejian will be at least five minutes behind them, walking briskly down the aisle to his waiting lectern, tall cup of coffee in hand.

People are willing to wait on Dekmejian, a USC professor of political science. A university-qualified expert in Middle Eastern politics and leadership, as well as dozens of other academic topics, Dekmejian counts among his acquaintances Thomas Friedman and Judith Miller, both of whom he criticizes for helping lead America into disaster in Iraq. It’s a topic he rarely strays from for long. He was contemptuous toward Friedman’s pre-Iraq stance, and is unimpressed by the New York Times columnist’s fame. “Friedman should be criticized as well but he’s pulled back. He was going on and on doing stupid things and just giving me, you know, pure shit.”

Dekmejian arrives in class at 12:33, early for him. He’s wearing a slate-colored suit and aviator sunglasses that partially eclipse his face. He’s got on a periwinkle shirt with a navy and maroon striped tie. He’s trying to dress conservative for the day’s special lecturer, but his physical appearance just won’t allow it. From his relaxed, self-deprecating humor to his wild frizzed-out gray hair, nothing about him says conservative. He puts down his brief case and switches to regular prescription glasses. The suit fits well aside from being a bit wide at the shoulders. As he stands before the class his shape is a narrow V, an art deco academic.

Dekmejian was born in Aleppo, Syria in 1933 to Armenian parents- both of who survived the genocide. He came to America at 16 to study engineering at Los Angeles City College. When not studying, he was working hard at his Uncles’ rug cleaning business. He hated studying engineering, especially chemistry. He recalls one of the professors who cemented his decision to leave the field. “This guy told us that he hated teaching generally but teaching chemistry specifically.” “Now,” he chortles, “when you go into class and hear the guy say that- I even remember his name. He was a fat guy, a big huge slob by the name of Peterson, and this guy- I suspected that he was always drunk because his cheeks were always red.”

USC President Steven Sample is coming to class today to give a once-a-year lecture on leadership. Dekmejian knows it’s next to impossible to get Sample to come and speak. He appears anxious to make sure everything goes off smoothly.

After giving up on engineering, Dekmejian began to develop an interest in the ministry of the Armenian church, and went east to study theology at Yale. There he met his wife of 50 years, Anoush. His father died while he was in New Haven and he desperately wanted to bring his mother and sister to America. There was however the small problem that Dekmejian was not a citizen, so, he exercised his only option- volunteering for the draft. After 90 days in service he took the citizenship oath and sent for his mother and sister. 

In 1956, he was assigned to an armored infantry division and trained at bases around the south, until the army discovered he was proficient in a number of languages. He was cleared and sent to NATO headquarters in Paris, where he began working on military and political issues and intelligence. “When I came out, I’d lost my interest in engineering and the ministry so I started studying political science and international politics.”

Upon returning from overseas, he went to Connecticut, graduated, went to Boston University for his masters, and then onto Columbia for his Ph.D.

In the time before Sample is scheduled to arrive, Dekmejian shoots into mid-lecture form with a 5-minute mini-lecture on Saddam Hussein. He puts Saddam into the context of marginality- social, genealogical, financial.

Students are locked in as soon as Dekmejian starts. A laptop keyboard orchestra plays below his voice. Looks of surprise wash over the class as they learn that Saddam’s mother tried to abort him. This is the gift of Dekmejian’s virtuosity. His students come away feeling like they’ve learned secrets. They feel equipped.

It was at Columbia where Dekmejian’s desire to teach solidified. “Once I discovered graduate level education, I never wanted to leave campus… A campus is a place that people who are into knowledge and learning are always connected to. It’s a place of learning and excitement to me.”

He took the advice of one of his renowned professors, J.C. Hurewitz, and studied with every famous professor on campus. Dekmejian still recalls those professors who impacted him, among them; famed political scientist and Kennedy White House advisor Richard Neustadt, Dan Rustow, and Zbigniew Brzezinski, who went on to become National Security Advisor to Jimmy Carter. “This is when Columbia was at its height. It had giants walking on campus, and I was there at the right time,” Dekmejian reminisces.

The projector shines on Dekmejian’s face as the giant screen comes down with a relief map of Iraq. He easily mixes complex political and sociological terms with genial and conversational language. “He was a nasty guy,” he sums up Saddam.

Dekmejian learned more than political science and international relations from his Columbia professors. They served as the inspiration for his own teaching style. “Teaching is very personal, and I benefited from those professors who were not only wise but also had an interest in their students. Richard Neustadt did- he was a kind fellow. J. Hurewitz did.”

He wanted to copy the ones who had an interest in their students even beyond the classroom.

Sample enters the back of the hall. "At this point I’ll have to stop to introduce my boss,” Dekmejian segues. “What a wonderful transition I made from Saddam to my boss.” The class laughs.

He gives Sample a warm and deferential introduction. Dekmejian tells the students they are dramatically different and superior to the Trojans he had when he first started. “We owe that to one person, and that person is Steve Sample”

Sample takes the lectern and pats his chest. “Is there a mic?” “Yes, uh… ah…I took it with me,” Dekmejian realizes aloud as he waddles to the podium and affixes the microphone to Sample’s tie. It’s goofy moments like these that make Dekmejian so beloved by so many of his students.

He hears from students from years past by phone and email. Last year a student brought his father to class. He had taken Dekmejian’s class at SUNY Binghamton more than 30 years ago. He had become a documentary filmmaker. His films have been critical looks at world leaders. He told Dekmejian of the impact his class had on him way back in the 70’s. At a recent breakfast he met a woman who had taken his leadership class in 1989. She thanked him for what she learned. He chuckles while he describes how she talked about the presidency and tried to analyze George W. Bush. “That kind of stuff gives you a sort of sense of contentment.”

Dekmejian likes to give his students unique experiences. He used to have his popular Terrorism and Genocide class hijacked every semester by former military men. Friend and fellow professor Kenneth Graham used to lead the attack, which simulated, with extraordinary realism, a hostage situation. The best part is that the students never knew it was coming. It wasn’t on the syllabus, and Dekmejian never told them. Students had been shocked and terrified for years when the hostage-takers busted in, guns and all, until one year someone forgot to tell the DPS day shift about it. The hijacking was discontinued after the hostage takers were greeted on their way out by gun-wielding DPS officers ready to take them down.

His mother, who died three years ago at 102, told Dekmejian that he was always a gabber. He liked to give speeches. He was a know-it-all and he absorbed everything he saw and heard. He details his mother’s observations like they’re nostalgic treasures.

Dekmejian’s office is, at best, organize chaos. Books and pamphlets surround the entire office like an audience in an amphitheater. There are four comically mountainous stacks on his desk. He peeks through a narrow canyon between the book stacks to answer questions and check in with his secretary, who handles his computer work. Discussing the Middle East, He plucks his new book, Spectrum of Terror, which he dedicated in part to his students, out of a huge stack to his left and introduces it as if he were hosting an infomercial. “I’ll be signing it next year,” he chides.

Dekmejian is both diminutive and authoritative- diminutive in stature but authoritative in his knowledge and speech. Watching him speak is like watching a play. He paces back and forth 50 feet or so across the front of the lecture hall, returning to the lectern when he wraps up a class segment. He uses hand gestures and leans toward the students when making a point. He is giving the LBJ treatment to 229 students simultaneously.

“To be effective teaching has gotta be a passion, ya know? Ya gotta love teaching. Going to class and teaching and hearing the feedback… If you don’t like that kind of stuff, this is the wrong business for you. In fact, teaching’s not a business. It’s a calling.

For Dekmejian, teaching has become a costly endeavor. He estimates he’s losing $100,000 every year he continues to teach- he can’t write as much or consult. He puts in six-day weeks and has to have a separate office in Glendale to get any writing done. Why continue? “I don’t know. It’s irrational… There’s no doubt I would miss the students. It’s a central issue. I’d miss campus life.”

He never wants to retire outright. He dismisses golf as a waste of time and money. He could take an administrative position, but he’s already tried that, having served as chair of the Political Science Department at USC. There he discovered a distaste for the endless paperwork, budgetary responsibilities and meetings associated with administration.

As Sample gets to the point in his lecture that roughly corresponds to the midway point of his book, Dekmejian resets in his seat and leans forward, chin resting on his fist. Though he's heard the lecture multiple times, Dekmejian tries to set the tone for the class by maintaining attention on Sample the entire time.

Dekmejian learned to empathize with the increasing pressures on college students, among them the intense competition to get accepted into graduate and professional schools. He tries to lead them in the right direction.

Dekmejian connects with his crowd. He remembers students’ names if they bother to talk to him after or outside of class. Many students attach their feelings for a professor to how well they do in class. This is not the case with Dekmejian. Almost all of them like him. He makes it clear that he wants all of his students to do well. This doesn’t mean he’s about to make the class easier, but he wants them to do well.  

He hates giving low grades and hates even more when students don’t come to class. His classes are always full and he encourages students who don’t want to attend lectures to make way for people who do. It’s all part of a collective experience. The “milieu” has to be right for a class to be successful. Teaching a class in an art.

When the Q&A session with Sample begins, Dekmejian waits eagerly to see how his students do. He looks on with pride as his students pepper Sample with intelligent and thoughtful questions. He grins a little each time Sample recoils.

If there’s any one thing Dekmejian wants to instill in his students, it’s the quality of being critical of everything. He worries about students becoming too self-involved and isolated, but sees a trend toward a healthy skepticism since 9/11.“You have to question everything. You can’t live by the received wisdom. Not even the received wisdom that Dekmejian gives you.”

Like a benevolent boxing referee, Dekmejian rises and motions to the class to wrap it up when he thinks Sample has had enough. He seems pleased with the results of the Q&A. He graciously shakes Sample’s hand as he fumbles with the file folder in his other arm. He is beaming. He has taught them well.