Mr. Lum presented himself as the consummate “policy wonk.” He cited facts, figures, percentages, names, procedures, and dates with impressive speed and accuracy. Initially, his manner of addressing the matter seemed counterintuitive. Mr. Lum remained eerily placid, and certain topoi were noticeably absent in his prepared remarks and extemporaneous responses. Most notably, he did not use the word “fair” in his entire 45 minutes, and his usage of the word “right” was reserved solely for describing his relationship to the student body: “My job is to do right by you,” for example. Mr. Lum was the first to utter any overt declaration of urgency, using the word “emergency,” and this was more than 25 minutes into the 45 minute event.
After about two-thirds of the time had elapsed, Mr. Lum’s strategy became a little more evident. Based on the behaviors and questions of those in attendance, I presumed that they expected a more impassioned address. Mr. Lum instead addressed a very narrow selection of facts. He systematically rebutted a number of the arguments forwarded by the administration and legislature, and stuck to as dry and pure a logic as possible. By remaining as factual and logical as possible, Mr. Lum rapidly created his ethos with the audience. At one point, it became slightly comical as he began to digress into a detailed description of procedural impediments to implementing a specific solution, then interrupting himself to abbreviate his response to “it’s too late for that, there’s not enough time in the (legislative) session to make it happen.” To me, this read as an attempt to display an understanding of even the most obscure rules, and a similar understanding of the audience’s desire of and patience for such details.
What Mr. Lum conspicuously lacked was passion and emotion. He commanded the facts with incredible deftness, and managed the direction of the conversation with great aplomb. When an audience member addressed the fairness of the state tax system, and asked why the state didn’t move to an income tax and make the millionaires pay more, Mr. Lum calmly deflected the question as fair but outside the scope of ASUW and not applicable to the immediate problem, and used it to segue into a discussion about the way in which rising costs limit accessibility. He cited statistics on cost and state contribution, and pointed out that the Federal Government was kicking in money to lower tuition, not to stabilize it, which happened under the state’s budget.
The end result of Mr. Lum’s calm, nearly passionless delivery was to render his audience unsatisfied. As the 45 minutes drew closer and closer to a close, the audience became increasingly agitated. A faculty member and spokesperson for “Seattle Radical Women” gave a few remarks and distributed a printout, further fanning the flames of discontent, and yet Mr. Lum remained as calm as ever. What he accomplished was rather amazing: he inflamed the passions of his audience without a bitter or evocative word. He avoided discourses of fairness, rightness, and morality, and in doing so lead his audience to those very topics. He advised nothing, advocated nothing, and using the facts he compelled discussion of action.
Mr. Lum created what I can only describe as an “emotional syllogism.” His major premise was that reduction of services or an increase in tuition is unfair, unjust, and generally bad. His minor premise was that the state and administration were moving in those directions anyway. Therefore, his audience was left with the conclusion that they were dealing with unfair, unjust, and bad people who were treating students, faculty and staff unfairly, unjustly, and poorly. If one can guild a seemingly passionless argument for such a position, and remain calm and apparently objective throughout, it creates a hole where the audience perceives an appeal to pathos should be. Rather than manufacturing umbrage, he gave it a breeding ground, and let human nature take its course. The emotional effect of his argument was intrinsic to each individual.
The second effect was to arm an angry crowd with talking points. It would have been easy to imbue the crowd with righteous anger and send it off for the weekend, but Mr. Lum accomplished more. By keeping the pace slow, the emotions low, and the conversation on track he created a good learning environment. In supplying an unbelievable amount of data, he made something available that would be memorable to most of the audience, something that person could employ in later conversation. Passion is good, but good talking points are even better.
Finally, Mr. Lum seemed to take a longer-term view of the problem than the majority of his audience. Many in attendance were interested in policy, social equity, or the implications for the faculty and staff, and some were simply students compelled by their own self interest. Mr. Lum’s approach seemed to be laying the ground work for future budgetary struggles. He cited a plethora of historical statistics and trends, and stressed the government and administration’s position that “these are extraordinary circumstances.” He seemed preparing the ASUW system to argue for the policy’s timely reversal under better economic conditions than its outright defeat, and part of setting the stage for the reversal of policy is creating discontent with its implementation.
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