Dr. John L. Sullivan is driven to discover the economic, social, and psychological conditions that promote political tolerance.

by M.J. Pehl

Outside it's a sullen, gray October day. Inside, brilliant red and orange dahlias fill Professor John Sullivan's office. These are the last flowers of the season for Sullivan, a devoted gardener. "My office is all books," Sullivan says. "My yard is all flowers."

Until last June, Sullivan was the Chair of the Department of Political Science, and he teaches American Politics. But way back when, he began his academic life with a keen interest in psychology. In eighth grade, he wrote a term paper on the subject, having been quite awed by a brother-in-law who was a psychiatric social worker. "I thought he was soooo cool!", Sullivan laughs. Jump ahead a few years, and as a college student, Sullivan did much undergraduate work in psychology. "But back then, many if not most psychology classes studied rats, pigeons and monkeys," he says. "I wanted to study human beings."

Then he took a class from Bill Flanigan, a behavioral political scientist (now professor emeritus). The class centered on human behavior in public opinion and voting. "That introductory class just hit the spot for me," Sullivan says. "I thought, 'this is what I want to study!'"

So Sullivan switched his studies to political science, and ultimately received a Ph.D. from the University of North Carolina in 1970 after which he did postdoctoral research in the Political Psychology Program at Yale University He was teaching at Indiana University in the mid-seventies when he began his research on political psychology, tolerance and political culture.

In an undergrad methodology class he was teaching, students studied research about citizen's attitudes toward civil liberties. The long-standing research on this topic-started in the 1940s and 1950s--was founded on the way people regarded the rights of non-mainstream groups, such as atheists and communists. In working with his students to replicate the research findings, Sullivan and his colleagues realized that no one was asking questions about different ideological groups. "Individuals were considered 'tolerant' when asked about groups they supported," Sullivan says.

"The previous studies were inherently biased, however unintentionally," he points out, "because they made it much easier for the left to express "tolerant" attitudes and behaviors."

"Nor was anyone trying to find out what the major source of animus in the political arena would be," Sullivan adds. They then theorized a modified conceptualization of what tolerance meant and created new measurement techniques.

"The whole process was a surprise," Sullivan says. Rather than coming up with a hypothesis and testing the theory, Sullivan says, "Here was a bunch of undergrads saying, 'hey, you political scientists, you got it wrong!'"

As for maintaining neutrality in a field that seems loaded with polemic minefields, it can be difficult. "In teaching, you must be open, fair and, perhaps, even neutral," Sullivan says. "But in research, you're trying to discover the truth - and the truth is not neutral."

In 1999, one of his colleagues nominated him for Regents Professorship. Sullivan says he was flattered, "but the odds seemed remote." When he got a message to call then-President Mark Yudoff, he knew what it was about.

"Not only was it an honor," he says, "The award allowed me to work on projects that weren't easily funded, projects that otherwise would have languished."

President Bruininks says, "Professor John Sullivan exemplifies all that the University strives to be as a world-class institution - innovative, relevant, resourceful and responsible - in the ever-volatile field of political science.

One of the projects that Sullivan was able to pursue was a collaboration with his daughter Melissa, a graduate student in the School of Education and Human Development. Together with a friend who was partially deaf and active in the deaf community, and a former student who was the Chair of Political Science at Carleton College (Barbara Allen), they began to discuss research they felt needed to be addressed in that community. Sullivan points out that political scientists often study political culture, and there has been much research done in cross-cultural communication within a larger culture. "But no-one was treating deaf culture as a separate culture in a political sense," he says.

So the four of them investigated intercultural communication using American Sign Language as opposed to English, and the findings resulted in several papers and articles. "I was able to do that with the Regents Professor stipend," Sullivan says proudly.

Another project supported by the Regents Professorship stipend is on the political psychology of cooperation, conducted with his son Brandon, who received his Ph.D. from the Minnesota Psychology Department, and McKnight Presidential Professor of Psychology Mark Snyder. Their edited volume has just been published by Blackwell Publishers.

Sullivan feels strongly that many people, including himself, would not be so prolific or do such notable work were it not for the support of a spouse. About his own wife Judy, he says, "I lucked out."

"Without her, I think my life and career would have been much more difficult." He feels he has benefitted from her maturity, emotional stability, and her boundless kindness.

In fact, he claims he met his wife when he was four days old and she was one-they spent time together in the hospital nursery. Their mothers were neighbors, and the two attended high school together and dated in college. And both are alums of the University of Minnesota. "I married someone who brings out the best in me," Sullivan says.

The Sullivans have two grandchildren, their son's children. Melissa passed away in 2001.

Sullivan has also received the Morse Alumni Teaching Award. In 1995, he published With Malice Towards Some: How People Make Civil Liberties Judgments, a treatise on tolerance decision-making processes. Another of his books, Political Tolerance and American Democracy, was published in 1982 and recently received a Converse Award. The award is given for "the outstanding book in the field of public opinion and voting behavior published five or more years ago."

"It's good to know the book is still out there," Sullivan says with a smile.

And the Political Science department continues to flourish. Sullivan is proud of the long line of graduate students, many of whom are well known political scientists in their own right. "I am proud to have had a role in their progress," he says, and begins to cite several of them by name and count off their numerous accomplishments on his fingers. His excitement is evident.

"We've got so many young people open to alternative ways of doing things, and

no matter what happens, this department is going to be prepared," he says. And there are all those flowers. In fact, Sullivan admits that his home has no yard to speak of. "There's just garden," he says, "The entire front and back yards." And what does he do in winter? "I plan my gardens!" Sullivan says with a laugh.

Indeed, there are lilies in the summer, dahlias in autumn, and spring brings about 1200 tulips (at last count). They are sold to raise funds for The Melissa Sullivan Endowed Fellowship Fund for Children and Families in the School of Education and Human Development, a fellowship created by the Sullivans in memory of Melissa.

"So much of what I do now is motivated by the loss of my daughter," Sullivan says.

It seems a distant notion right now, but Sullivan does think about the day he'll retire. He admits it: "A lot of academics don't want to retire but it would be fine with me. There's a lot to be done outside of the academy." After all, the tulips need him.