The Party Line

Political Closure on a Hot Summer Day

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By Peter Onear

It's a typical summer day on my campus. A few students meander across the quad. An orientation leader gestures dramatically as she gives a campus tour to parents of incoming freshmen. A grounds worker meticulously cuts grass around the shrubbery in front of a classroom building.

Ah, the lazy (and not at all crazy) days of summer.

I stand at my office window looking out at the idyllic scene. I am dressed in my best charcoal gray suit with a subtle tie that just hints of my university's athletics colors. I am careful not to let blood stain my clothes from gnawing my fingernails down to the quick.

I should be in Washington monitoring the progress of the reauthorization of the Higher Education Act in the Senate. Or, I should be in the state capital as legislators put the final touches on the budget. If nothing else, I should be down at City Hall where the university has a crucial zoning request pending.

However, today is the only meeting of the university's Board of Trustees for the summer, and the president wants me to give a "very brief" report "updating them on political matters." He doesn't want to review in advance what I will say, and he doesn't want me to be falsely upbeat. "Just give them a sense of what's going on," he says.

Speaking to the trustees is not a particularly frightening prospect for me. Most government-relations officers know their trustees well. In fact, I personally know of at least three government-relations officers who are also the administrative secretary or liaison to their institution's board. The men and women who are trustees tend to be politically active, so it's a good fit.

I have presented political updates to our trustees before, both of a general nature and focused on one topic, such as the prospects for Congressional earmarks or the status of certain state legislation.

Nevertheless, while trustees are politically active, they are not necessarily politically savvy. Some of them, particularly those serving public institutions, tend to be very partisan since they owe their position to the direct vote of the electorate or direct appointment by the governor.

Trustees tend to be very supportive of education (which, of course, is a good thing), but they are, therefore, dismissive when education policy takes a back seat to other types of federal or state legislation. Also, since at least some of them are usually from "out of town," they don't always know or care much about local politics and believe that whatever the university needs locally from city or county governments it should get -- without question.

Obviously, all of the above at any given moment causes me to chew on my fingernails.

But there's yet another problem about addressing the trustees that affects a government-relations officer even more than other administrators, including the president. Trustees want closure. Truthfully, I would be the same way if I were a trustee.

If you have ever attended a trustee meeting, have you noticed how much of it is about closure? For example: Here is the university budget. Period. Here are the new faculty members we are hiring. Period. Here is the new master's degree program that we are starting. Period. Here are the plans for the new classroom center that we're starting to build tomorrow. Period. Here is the list of spring graduates. Period.

Then I get up to talk.

Well, I say, equivocating, the governor's proposed higher-education budget doesn't agree with the state senate's, so we might have a gap of a couple million dollars in our state subsidy. And one of our Congressional earmarks might be moved from Health and Human Services to the Defense Department because our representative switched committees -- but maybe not. And the city's tax revenues are down, so they may not get around to widening the street in front of the campus unless we contribute $100,000. And no one in Washington exactly knows what's going on with the reauthorization of the Higher Education Act, but the university might really be affected if Secretary Spellings has her way.

Closure? Not today. Perhaps tomorrow? Not likely.

Therefore, as I stand looking out my office window, I am worried about what I'm going to say and how I'm going to say it. Can I be upbeat while still conveying the mercurial nature of politics? Can I make myself look good even though my message is ambiguous at best?

Eventually, the board meeting happens. Fortunately, our tête-à-tête goes well enough. I was pretty sure it would be all right. (Hindsight is more predictable than foresight.) The president seems satisfied. There are handshakes all around. And I am glad no one asks me about the bandages on my fingers.

Perhaps the trustees were just in a good mood, caught up in the pleasant atmosphere of summer on the campus. It just goes to show, when you're in politics, you have to use all the angles and hope for a nice day.