Publish and Perish, part 27: How to Bypass an Impasse

[Context: read the previous part or start at the beginning. TW: bad amateur fiction!]

Gerald was emailing Cissy again. Best to send this during normal work hours, he thought.

To: cciplinski@conley.edu

Subject: Faculty Senate

Cissy, I hope you’re having a good week. If you’re agreeable to this, I’d like to ask you a few questions about your experience in the Faculty Senate — specifically about how disputes between rival factions are resolved (or not). This is not meant as anything other than me learning a bit more about campus governance. I’d be happy to send you the questions via email or to ask them in person, whichever you’d prefer. Thanks for considering this request. –Gerald

She wrote back in a couple hours: Sure, no problem. In person would be best for me. Cafe Nation tomorrow at 4, like last week?

Gerald quickly accepted: Great, thanks, see you then.

* * * * * * *

When he arrived at Cafe Nation, she was there almost as she had been the week before, sipping her drink and banging away on her laptop. The one noticeable difference was that today there was a sheet of paper next to the laptop.

Gerald waved, ordered, collected his mocha, and joined her. She closed her laptop and looked up.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So, you want to know more about the Faculty Senate, eh?”

“Well, sort of,” Gerald. “I mean, I know this is odd, given that I don’t want to join the Faculty Senate, but … You know that old saying, if you can make it in New York you can make it anywhere? I’m currently considering the idea that if a conflict-resolution strategy works in the Faculty Senate then it will work anywhere. I know that sounds ridiculous, even to me, but I don’t think there’s any harm in considering the idea and seeing where it leads.”

“I agree with that in principle,” Cissy said, “though in practice I’m not sure that our Faculty Senate should be used as a model for anything. Ever.”

“Noted! And yet — and I mean this in a purely professional sense — I’ve heard from multiple people that you seem to be able to get things done even in that quite possibly toxic environment.”

Cissy started to speak, but he cut her off: “There’s no use denying it; people agree that you’re an effective Senate President!”

“Actually,” Cissy said pointedly, “I was trying to agree with you. I am good at that.” She punctuated the claim with a sip of her drink.

“Oh — sorry. Anyway, given that success, my general question for you is, how do you do it? How does one manage to avoid gridlock and move things forward in ways that most people find satisfactory? Like, for example, you can always hold a vote, but then 49% of the people might be unhappy about the outcome. So, for keeping the peace between rival factions, are there any good ways of, um, supplementing democracy?”

Cissy looked ready to answer, but Gerald felt compelled to explain himself even further.

“Let’s say,” he continued, “that you’re presiding over Group 1 and Group 2, and they’re supposed to agree on a solution to a particular problem, but Group 1 prefers Solution A, whatever that might be, while Group 2 prefers Solution B. Aside from just holding a vote — which might be the best option — are there other realistic ways to resolve the situation?”

“Yes,” said Cissy. “I got that from your email. You’re essentially asking about game theory for governance.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Gerald. “I think so.”

“There must be a rich literature on this,” said Cissy. “But, to be honest, I haven’t found the time to read any of it. I’ve just figured some things out empirically.” She gestured to the piece of paper next to her laptop. “I took the liberty of making a list for you.”

“I like the way you set up the situation,” she continued. “So Group 1 wants Solution A, and Group 2 wants Solution B, right?”

“Yes. 1-A, 2-B. Brilliant nomenclature, I know.”

“Simplicity is good. OK, alternatives to voting. Here we go.” She seemed happy to finally be in command of the conversation.

“First,” she said, “are A and B the only realistic solutions? Has there been adequate brainstorming for identifying additional possibilities? Sometimes there’s a Solution C that Groups 1 and 2 would both prefer if they knew it was an option. Some of my biggest ‘wins’, so to speak, have come from noticing solutions that hadn’t previously been on the table. And–” She interrupted herself. ” This is what you want, right?”

“Yes!” said Gerald. “Very much so. Please continue.”

“OK,” she said, gesturing to her piece of paper. “Here’s another one. Another subtlety that isn’t necessarily captured by voting is that Group 1 might care much more deeply about the issue than Group 2, or vice versa. So if Group 1 is a smaller group, but is adamant that Solution A is the best, while Group 2’s numerous members all like Solution B but don’t care as much, maybe you arrange a trade in which Group 1 gets its way on this issue and Group 2 gets its way on some other issue that it really cares about.”

“Mmm,” said Gerald. “That seems obvious now that you’ve explained it, but I probably wouldn’t have thought of it otherwise.”

“Yeah,” said Cissy. “That one is especially useful when dealing with, say, our geology department. They have a fetish for field trips — which makes sense for their discipline, I suppose — so, as long as we protect their field-trip budget and their field-trip vehicles, they’ll go along with almost anything else.”

“Huh!” Gerald was amused. He said, “I wonder what tricks you have for getting the biologists to fall in line.” He held up his hands. “But I’m not asking, so don’t tell me!”

“OK, next — we should mention the most obvious type of compromise,” Cissy continued. “Maybe there is a solution somewhere between A and B — a ‘Solution A-minus’ or a ‘Solution B-plus’ — that makes both groups reasonably happy.”

“Right,” said Gerald. “That one I did anticipate. Along with another one that I’m not sure actually happens in the real world, which is the following. In your experience, if Group 1 prefers A and Group 2 prefers B, does one group ever simply win over the other group via argumentation? As in, ‘you’re wrong and we’re right and here’s why’?”

“No,” said Cissy flatly. “With very rare exceptions for when one side gently begins with, ‘we’re curious as to why you prefer that solution; can you tell us more about that?’ And then really listens to the response, and tries to meet the other side where they are…. And if the other side is open-minded, too, and if the two sides eventually recognize that they have certain values in common, then maybe some persuasion becomes possible.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem like a winning bet,” Gerald said.

“It certainly isn’t,” said Cissy. “However, I’ve also seen a variation of that where the odds are slightly better. Let’s imagine that Groups 1 and 2 are merged, as when two academic programs merge into one. If people accept the reality of the merger, and if they also believe that they should get to know their new group-mates better, there could be some good-faith dialogue that leads to more mutual understanding and more alignment of preferences. It’s basically a desert-island scenario: if you’re stuck with these other people, maybe you should learn to cooperate.”

“OK, that makes sense,” Gerald said, “but how often do groups actually merge like that?” He took a final swig of his mocha.

“Sometimes,” Cissy said, “a temporary merger can be arranged. For example, you could set up a weekend retreat for the rival groups. A temporary desert island, if you will. Of course, that could go either way. By the end of the weekend, the groups might be getting along better, or they might be at each other’s throats worse than ever….”

“Right — the reality-show approach,” said Gerald.

“And there’s one last important one that I’m aware of,” Cissy said, flicking her paper with her index finger. “Sometimes people just need to realize that the problem that they’re fighting over isn’t really a problem. Or won’t be a problem for long, anyway. So there’s no need to proceed with a divisive vote, or other divisive options.”

“Is that something you see … with any regularity?” Gerald asked.

“Oh yeah — all the time.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“Sure. Let’s see… Do you remember President Rambo?”

“You speak, of course, of Dr. Carson Rambo, the thirteenth president of Conley College. With a name like that, how could I forget him? Well, that and his dramatic exit.”

“Yes — so you probably remember how the student newspaper caught him having an affair with that dean. What was her name? Helga? Hester?”

“Helen,” Gerald said. “Helen….” He snapped his fingers. “Helen Hitzenberger!”

“Yes, that was it. Good old Helen Hitzenberger,” said Cissy. “So — a lot of the faculty were outraged when the affair came to light, and they were pushing for a no-confidence vote and various ways of expressing their disapproval. And others were like, ‘well, we don’t know the full story yet, let’s not rush things.’ And overheated emails were sent, and impassioned speeches were made, despite the fact that Rambo basically knew that his days were numbered and basically accepted that he would need to resign. So we gave him a couple of weeks to make an official announcement, and for an acting president to be appointed, that was that. There was no need to keep fighting over something that was about to become a non-issue.”

“The Rambo Rule,” Gerald suggested. “‘Sometimes it’s better not to fight’.”

“I like it!” said Cissy.

[Update: the story continues with part 28.]