Suits. And mostly men. That's the first thing that hit me in Associate Justice Michael A. Silverstein's Court Room 11, State Superior Court where the landmark Rhode Island Lead Paint Trial is beginning.
The next thing I notice, as the judge and representatives for the plaintiffs and defendants discuss procedural issues, is that legal proceedings are not not much different than my day job (that is, one of my day jobs) of writing speeches for leaders and coaching them on how to be "heard."
In both the law and public speaking, the facts, while relevant and potentially persuasive, are not as important as the human factors, at least to the folks who matter the most and that's the jury and the jury is made up of laypeople like myself who are not expert in law (Despite my brief stint at Harvard Law School).
What are those human factors?
To begin with, paying attention. With all the fine points of law and precedents being brought up, my mind tends to back away from all this stuff that seems so overwhelmingly complex and makes me feel stupid.
That brings up the next human factor, being able to get my attention. I started listening again when the plaintiff's representative presented his point of view with appropriate rhetorical devices such as alternating inflections, pauses for important stuff, use of irony.
The judge also got my attention through very human gestures like referring to the weekend's Patriots game and injecting a bit of humor. Those were brilliant touches for a Monday morning. (But no sign that this judge will morph into an all-too-human Judge Ito.)
The third human factor is being conversational. When a ponderous procedural motion was on the floor, the judge said to the defendant's representative, "Talk to the court about ...." The less conversational the discussion, the less I could or would listen.
The fourth human factor is the need to reinforce or, as we say in communications circles, apply The Hammer. Representatives for both parties kept repeating the same words and phrases. You had to be from Mars not to eventually get their point. Legal arguments are all about reinforcing one or two key points.
Given that the judge and representatives from both sides were able to get and mostly keep my attention, I sort of figured out that this case will revolve around two central questions: Who knew what about the possible injury lead paint could cause and when did they know it. And, has injury resulted from lead paint pigments in Rhode Island buildings and, if so, does that constitute a public nuisance.
As the trial goes on, I might need to clarify (a word used lots in the court room) what questions the jury will have to ask themselves.
In addition to the legal questions, hovering over the proceedings were the questions of why this was all happening. What were the agendas?
Did the government need funds to eliminate the lead hazard in buildings and to treat victims, especially children, who somehow got lead paint chips into their system? Is that why there is this case?
Is a message to be sent to capitalism that there will always be a way to designate it, somehow, as a deep pocket that can be picked as the result of its products and services, no matter the facts or intentionality of the situation?
Will this case be looked at as a signal to the nation that tort reform is or is not happening (BUSINESS WEEK's cover story a few months ago saw progress in tort reform.)
Given the tough sledding in a global economy, will American industry indirectly deliver the message that much of the legal system, as it stands, hobbles national competitiveness?
The timing couldn't be better for such a strong statement. Delphi's Robert "Steve" Miller is getting plenty of pricey media real estate space, both in the liberal NEW YORK TIMES and the more conservative THE WALL STREET JOURNAL, saying just this, loud and clear. And with no softening of the harsh current realities of not being competitive with China, India and Japan. (I wrote speeches for Miller at Chrysler in the 1980s when there wasn't such as dog fight in the global marketplace and his rhetoric was softer.)
From Court Room 11 and the wisdom of Associate Justice Michael A. Silverstein and the jury can come the biggest game-change in American economic, social and legal history.
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