Professor Bruce sat in the light of the courtyard, as if relaxing into a moment of inner self-reflection. Then he spoke as if half of him were lingering within some heavenly dream, "When campaigning or influencing for equal rights take care to note the number of power gradients acting on each speaker - real or fictional character. The empowerment of those with multiple power gradients acting against them is vital, yet societal progress may be quicker if they are partnered with 'ally' voices with little or no power gradients against them. Pragmatism with idealism can unlock empathy faster and with greater permenance."
A hand shot up, "How? How does that work?"
"Yes," said the Professor, "it's similar to the activation energies required for enzymes as a concept... we think of it as neurological activation energy... the more power gradients against a person the higher the energy required for the listeners brain to take their message in. The most basic example is of a woman speaking of women's rights, she is both a woman and the subject matter is about women, that's already a double gradient. Now, if she is a woman of colour, a lesbian, poor or with a low level of education, then we're magnifying the power gradient to a level that acts a societal trap. Yet if we bring in an ally who is male, white and priviledged to introduce her and back her speech, then the brains of the listener are more likely to absorb the truth of what she says and wish to support her. We want to empower her to speak for herself, yet maximise the take up of the message."
The professor walked in as if the stage had grand velvet curtains and every lecture was his Westend curtain call.
The professor appeared to have long ago taken up residence in his esoteric subject matter and left the real world far behind.
The professor had brought her baby in with her, so cute! It made the lecture better, warmer, giving it the family vibe we students were so missing without realising it. She talked, baby chewed her handbag strap. It was a sort of heartfelt levity the day would otherwise have lacked.
The professor could have stepped off the pages of some antiquated novel, those tweeds and round-rimmed spectacles, oh boy!
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