Ya think that maybe I'm developing some sort of complex? A feeling of being neglected and discomfirmed? When Lapakko writes something, he expects it to be published! After all, who could possibly say it better? Well, I guess Alison Rasch of St. Paul can say it better, because the Star Tribune chose her letter to the editor over mine on the same subject. And actually, looking at both letters, hers may have been the better choice.
Context: A guy from Eden Prairie writes a whiny letter on March 19 complaining about those "photo cops" that can nab a motorist for moving violations. Here's the text of his letter:
I was one of the drivers who was ticketed by photo cop before the law was suspended. Photo cop does a great job of enforcing the law. But there is a huge difference between speeding through a red light at 40 miles per hour and making a "rolling stop" while taking a right on red (my offense).
Practically no one comes to a complete stop before turning right--assuming there is no oncoming traffic. It doesn't make sense to waste gas, brake linings and time just to fulfill the letter of the law when the spirit of the law is to prevent accidents. Yield signs already exist to remind drivers that cross traffic has the right of way. The law for right turns should be changed to "yield" rather than "complete stop" at most red lights. Otherwise, the law will be subjectively enforced (which is what photo cop is designed to prevent) and a lot of fines will be levied that will do nothing to prevent accidents.
Now I don't know about you, but I thought this guy seems to have some "entitlement issues." Heaven forbid that he should actually have to stop at a red light before turning! Such a huge waste of time, gas, and brake linings! And so I submitted the following letter to the StarTrib:
A March 19 letter writer has the gall to rationalize his failure to come to a complete stop at a “right turn on red.” He asserts that “practically no one comes to a complete stop before turning right.” He whines that having to stop before turning “wastes gas, brake linings and time.” And he claims that the current law is “subjectively enforced.”
Translation: this guy really doesn’t understand the law or why it is there in the first place. Yes, I do see people flaunting this rule from time to time, treating the red light as if it were a yellow one. But most people do follow the law, and they should, for safety reasons. Cars--and pedestrians--are moving in each direction; one needs to actually stop and look for them. Some people simply regard the red light as an annoyance, but I’ve seen impatient, careless right-turners create safety issues many times. And I don’t feel great sympathy for the loss of maybe two seconds of time and a ridiculously inconsequential amount of gas. And wear on brake linings? Give ME a break!
The letter-writer suggests that the right turn on red should be changed to “yield.” He implies that this would eliminate “subjective enforcement.” But in some ways, that makes for an even murkier law: now we would have to make a judgment as to whether someone did in fact “yield” or did in fact need to yield. To me, that’s even more subjective, and if the letter-writer actually thought about that a little bit, he’d realize it as well.
David Lapakko, Richfield, MN
OK, maybe it was a little nasty, and maybe it wasn't focused on the "photo cop" issue. But I thought it was worth printing. Still, the letters editor chose instead to publish the following letter from the aforementioned Alison Rasch:
A March 19 letter writer from Eden Prairie is angry that he was nabbed for not stopping at a red light before turning right ("Photo cop/It's too strict"). He believes the law that requires a driver to come to a full stop is "too strict" and "doesn't make sense."
If his contention is that the spirit of the law is to prevent accidents, he might consider that stopping and looking before proceedings will prevent him from running over pedestrians and bikers who may be out of his line of vision.
As a walker and bike-commuter, I am so glad I don't live in Eden Prairie and have to risk being smacked by this self-centered driver, who seems more concerned about wear and tear on his car than the safety of those who share the road with him.
Alison Rasch, St. Paul
Good goin', Alison! In the end, her letter was slightly more concise, slightly more polite, and dealt with the important biker/pedestrian issue in a nice "personal" way. I can see why if, they only had to publish one letter on this subject, that they would have published hers.
And so, the howling wolf/contentious introvert (that's me) keeps plugging along, hoping that I don't have to do something really weird (like sit on a toilet for TWO YEARS--now that's quite the story; look it up if you don't know what I'm referring to) in order to gain the attention of our mass media. This blog is a medium, but seriously, could we put the word "mass" in front of it? I think there have to be at least two or three readers for it to qualify as such!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
These are a few of my favorite things
A reader from Cincinnati, OH writes, "Hey Dave--what are some of your favorite things?" Glad you asked. (And I'm especially glad to know that someone in Cincinnati is, well, MIGHT be reading this stuff--I don't actually know that for a fact, as they say. OK, it's just a bald-faced lie.)
• Favorite color: green, in most forms
• Favorite season: spring (I'd make every day about May 10th if I could)
• Favorite classical music ending: tie between "The Pines of Rome" by Respighi, "The Firebird Suite" by Stravinsky, and Mahler's First Symphony (The "Titan")
• Favorite movie: really, when all is said and done, "Ordinary People"
• Favorite race distance: the half marathon, of course!
• Favorite running venue: Lake Harriet in Minneapolis
• Favorite running shoe brand: New Balance (love them 2Es)
• Favorite lack-of-impulse-control food: pizza, in any form
• Favorite early Beatles' song: If I Fell in Love With You
• Favorite late Beatles' song: The Long and Winding Road
• Favorite Marx brother: after Karl, probably Harpo
• Favorite holiday: Thanksgiving, hands down
• Favorite hand lotion: Lubriderm, unscented
• Favorite female vocalist: always had a crush on Linda Ronstadt, until I heard her speak in a normal voice!
• Favorite obscure oldies' song: "Will You Be Staying After Sunday" by the Peppermint Rainbow
• Favorite oldies' social commentary song: "Pleasant Valley Sunday" by the Monkees
• Favorite margarine: Smart Balance
• Favorite novelist: probably Tom Robbins
• Favorite sort-of-raunchy novelist: Henry Miller
• Favorite fruit: when they are at their very best, oranges
• Favorite existential philosopher: Jean-Paul Sartre (who else?)
Well, there you go, Cincinnati. Something to read and think about. And debate about. It can be on the list of activities for your next baby shower, bridal shower, or even post-funeral social hour. Glad that you asked, and really glad that I could help.
• Favorite color: green, in most forms
• Favorite season: spring (I'd make every day about May 10th if I could)
• Favorite classical music ending: tie between "The Pines of Rome" by Respighi, "The Firebird Suite" by Stravinsky, and Mahler's First Symphony (The "Titan")
• Favorite movie: really, when all is said and done, "Ordinary People"
• Favorite race distance: the half marathon, of course!
• Favorite running venue: Lake Harriet in Minneapolis
• Favorite running shoe brand: New Balance (love them 2Es)
• Favorite lack-of-impulse-control food: pizza, in any form
• Favorite early Beatles' song: If I Fell in Love With You
• Favorite late Beatles' song: The Long and Winding Road
• Favorite Marx brother: after Karl, probably Harpo
• Favorite holiday: Thanksgiving, hands down
• Favorite hand lotion: Lubriderm, unscented
• Favorite female vocalist: always had a crush on Linda Ronstadt, until I heard her speak in a normal voice!
• Favorite obscure oldies' song: "Will You Be Staying After Sunday" by the Peppermint Rainbow
• Favorite oldies' social commentary song: "Pleasant Valley Sunday" by the Monkees
• Favorite margarine: Smart Balance
• Favorite novelist: probably Tom Robbins
• Favorite sort-of-raunchy novelist: Henry Miller
• Favorite fruit: when they are at their very best, oranges
• Favorite existential philosopher: Jean-Paul Sartre (who else?)
Well, there you go, Cincinnati. Something to read and think about. And debate about. It can be on the list of activities for your next baby shower, bridal shower, or even post-funeral social hour. Glad that you asked, and really glad that I could help.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Newsweek editors cannot stop me!
A few months ago, I submitted a column to Newsweek for their feature called "My Turn," in which ordinary folks like you and me get a full page to write something that's a little more on the "personal" side. But, they are quick to remind submitters that they get hundreds of such columns each week and can only publish one. Guess what? I lost this time--probably for several reasons, not the least of which is that my thoughts were a little more "political" than "personal." Nonetheless, here for everyone to see (even you folks in Malaysia, Poland, Brazil, etc. etc.) is what I sent them. It is, in many ways, my stance on what we are doing in Iraq:
In last fall’s campaign for the U.S. Senate in Minnesota, candidate Mark Kennedy, defending our actions in Iraq, ran TV spots that included this statement: “You can’t negotiate with people who want to kill you.” For many, such a quip might seem so correct and so self-evident that even a smidgen of skepticism about its wisdom would be incomprehensible.
But for me, whenever I heard this statement, the question always arose, “Aren’t those the very people you’d want to negotiate with?”
“Negotiation,” “discussion,” and “communication” seem like wimpy words to many people. A letter-writer to the Star Tribune last fall said that we need to “get tough” in Iraq, including the use of “heavy artillery” and “Hiroshima-style bombs,” because “the only way we will be victorious in the war on terror is to bring the enemy to its knees, and force them to surrender.” For some people, there’s no problem that a few nukes couldn’t handle!
Unfortunately, the prevailing mindset is that “terrorism” can only be conquered with violence. However, a foreign policy based on trying to “kill the enemy” is destined to fail. Whether it be the Hatfields and the McCoys or the United States and Al-Qaeda, the lesson we should have learned, over and over, is that violence simply tends to beget more violence. This is even more the case when the “enemy” has no national identity. We could get the Japanese nation to surrender in 1945, but we cannot do that so readily with antagonists who are spread across many countries and are not legal representatives of any political state. We cannot really “win a war” here; we must instead win hearts and minds.
We hear a lot about our military strategy “to win the war on terrorism.” But we don’t hear anything about our communication strategy. What do we know about these other people, and their cultures? How do their values and communication styles differ from ours? What are their political and religious views? What do we have in common with them, and where are the tension points? Until we are ready to address these questions seriously, we leave ourselves in the position where the only option seems to be violence.
If I were the President, I would make effective communication my number one priority. If elected, I would say to the world: “Osama bin Laden, Al-Qaeda, and anyone who has issues with the United States—I will meet with you, anytime, anywhere to try to make this world better. Let’s sit down and see what we can agree upon, and what we need to work on. Because the reality is that what we are doing right now just isn’t working--for anyone.”
I can already anticipate the letters to Newsweek in the next few days. Words such as “hopelessly idealistic” and “incredibly naïve” will appear. Doesn’t he remember the Nazis? Why should we appease “aggressors”? Weren’t the 9/11 attacks unprovoked? And how do you negotiate with people who want to kill you? Of course, part of the answer involves another communication skill: the need to listen, and to realize, even if it is abhorrent to us, that in the view of Al-Qaeda, 9/11 was not unprovoked.
Still, there are no simple or magic answers to the world’s problems, and that includes “better communication.” But until we make a concerted effort to communicate more effectively with the rest of the world, we are left with options that are, in the long run, not only more unpleasant, but counterproductive. Indeed, the times when we have shined as a nation have been built around the positive force of our vision for a saner world, whether that be in the form of the Marshall Plan, the Peace Corps, or the courageous nonviolent campaigns of Martin Luther King, Jr.
Change is not always easy or pleasant, but it can happen when people are committed to making it happen. We’ve squandered hundreds of billions of dollars on the military in Iraq, and yet some might have the nerve to suggest that better communication is somehow a wasted and pointless effort. But with a small fraction of that military money we could engage the world in substantive discussions and intercultural initiatives that would do far more to move us in the right direction. A smart cultural, economic, and diplomatic strategy would have far better results in the long run and could restore the tarnished image of the United States in the world community.
What is highly ironic to me is that many people have defined “stopping terrorism” as the central, defining issue of the 21st century. Terrorism, so this view goes, is the pivotal issue of our time. The irony is that by trying to kill our way out of this mess, we are creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. A foreign policy that is based on military intervention will help ensure that this remains a military problem, far into the future. What we desperately need in order to break this cycle of violence is a radically new stance that will reach out to the world, start meaningful exchanges with both our friends and our foes, and make the United States a constructive force for peace, something that would make us all proud.
This message, of course, is hardly original and certainly not profound. But it is such a neglected and overlooked message that someone needs to say it here and now: we simply cannot secure the peace by waging war.
In last fall’s campaign for the U.S. Senate in Minnesota, candidate Mark Kennedy, defending our actions in Iraq, ran TV spots that included this statement: “You can’t negotiate with people who want to kill you.” For many, such a quip might seem so correct and so self-evident that even a smidgen of skepticism about its wisdom would be incomprehensible.
But for me, whenever I heard this statement, the question always arose, “Aren’t those the very people you’d want to negotiate with?”
“Negotiation,” “discussion,” and “communication” seem like wimpy words to many people. A letter-writer to the Star Tribune last fall said that we need to “get tough” in Iraq, including the use of “heavy artillery” and “Hiroshima-style bombs,” because “the only way we will be victorious in the war on terror is to bring the enemy to its knees, and force them to surrender.” For some people, there’s no problem that a few nukes couldn’t handle!
Unfortunately, the prevailing mindset is that “terrorism” can only be conquered with violence. However, a foreign policy based on trying to “kill the enemy” is destined to fail. Whether it be the Hatfields and the McCoys or the United States and Al-Qaeda, the lesson we should have learned, over and over, is that violence simply tends to beget more violence. This is even more the case when the “enemy” has no national identity. We could get the Japanese nation to surrender in 1945, but we cannot do that so readily with antagonists who are spread across many countries and are not legal representatives of any political state. We cannot really “win a war” here; we must instead win hearts and minds.
We hear a lot about our military strategy “to win the war on terrorism.” But we don’t hear anything about our communication strategy. What do we know about these other people, and their cultures? How do their values and communication styles differ from ours? What are their political and religious views? What do we have in common with them, and where are the tension points? Until we are ready to address these questions seriously, we leave ourselves in the position where the only option seems to be violence.
If I were the President, I would make effective communication my number one priority. If elected, I would say to the world: “Osama bin Laden, Al-Qaeda, and anyone who has issues with the United States—I will meet with you, anytime, anywhere to try to make this world better. Let’s sit down and see what we can agree upon, and what we need to work on. Because the reality is that what we are doing right now just isn’t working--for anyone.”
I can already anticipate the letters to Newsweek in the next few days. Words such as “hopelessly idealistic” and “incredibly naïve” will appear. Doesn’t he remember the Nazis? Why should we appease “aggressors”? Weren’t the 9/11 attacks unprovoked? And how do you negotiate with people who want to kill you? Of course, part of the answer involves another communication skill: the need to listen, and to realize, even if it is abhorrent to us, that in the view of Al-Qaeda, 9/11 was not unprovoked.
Still, there are no simple or magic answers to the world’s problems, and that includes “better communication.” But until we make a concerted effort to communicate more effectively with the rest of the world, we are left with options that are, in the long run, not only more unpleasant, but counterproductive. Indeed, the times when we have shined as a nation have been built around the positive force of our vision for a saner world, whether that be in the form of the Marshall Plan, the Peace Corps, or the courageous nonviolent campaigns of Martin Luther King, Jr.
Change is not always easy or pleasant, but it can happen when people are committed to making it happen. We’ve squandered hundreds of billions of dollars on the military in Iraq, and yet some might have the nerve to suggest that better communication is somehow a wasted and pointless effort. But with a small fraction of that military money we could engage the world in substantive discussions and intercultural initiatives that would do far more to move us in the right direction. A smart cultural, economic, and diplomatic strategy would have far better results in the long run and could restore the tarnished image of the United States in the world community.
What is highly ironic to me is that many people have defined “stopping terrorism” as the central, defining issue of the 21st century. Terrorism, so this view goes, is the pivotal issue of our time. The irony is that by trying to kill our way out of this mess, we are creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. A foreign policy that is based on military intervention will help ensure that this remains a military problem, far into the future. What we desperately need in order to break this cycle of violence is a radically new stance that will reach out to the world, start meaningful exchanges with both our friends and our foes, and make the United States a constructive force for peace, something that would make us all proud.
This message, of course, is hardly original and certainly not profound. But it is such a neglected and overlooked message that someone needs to say it here and now: we simply cannot secure the peace by waging war.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
A few of my favorite quotations
Yes, I've received literally hundreds of requests to post my favorite quotations. So, "giving person" that I am, here are a few:
"No matter in how many ways our lives are demonstrated to be insignificant, we can only live them as if they were not." - John Updike, A Month of Sundays
"It is natural to give a clear view of the world after accepting the idea that it must be clear." - Albert Camus, "An Absurd Reasoning"
"The aim of a liberal education is not to turn out ideal dinner guests who can talk with assurance about practically everything, but people who will not be taken in by men who speak about all things with an air of finality. The goal is not to train future authorities, but men who are not cowed by those who claim to be authorities." - Walter Kaufmann, The Faith of a Heretic
"Western civilization is a man running with increasing speed through an air-sealed tunnel in search of additional oxygen. You can quite reasonably tell him he will survive longer if she slows down, but he is not likely to do it." - Phillip Slater, Earthwalk
"'Faith' means not wanting to know what is true." - Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist (or, "Faith is believin' in something that nobody in his right mind would believe"- Archie Bunker, CBS "All in the Family" broadcast)
Ponder those quotations for a while. There will be a short essay exam next Tuesday.
"No matter in how many ways our lives are demonstrated to be insignificant, we can only live them as if they were not." - John Updike, A Month of Sundays
"It is natural to give a clear view of the world after accepting the idea that it must be clear." - Albert Camus, "An Absurd Reasoning"
"The aim of a liberal education is not to turn out ideal dinner guests who can talk with assurance about practically everything, but people who will not be taken in by men who speak about all things with an air of finality. The goal is not to train future authorities, but men who are not cowed by those who claim to be authorities." - Walter Kaufmann, The Faith of a Heretic
"Western civilization is a man running with increasing speed through an air-sealed tunnel in search of additional oxygen. You can quite reasonably tell him he will survive longer if she slows down, but he is not likely to do it." - Phillip Slater, Earthwalk
"'Faith' means not wanting to know what is true." - Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist (or, "Faith is believin' in something that nobody in his right mind would believe"- Archie Bunker, CBS "All in the Family" broadcast)
Ponder those quotations for a while. There will be a short essay exam next Tuesday.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Communication Studies? What's THAT?
Being in a department of Communication Studies (formerly, speech-communication), I am constantly aware that we must fight for legitimacy. If you are a department of political science, or sociology, or history, or physics, or chemistry, you can rest assured that no one will eliminate you--it would be unthinkable within a liberal arts institution. Yet communication studies always needs to be looking over its shoulder. In fact, in the last 10 years, both St. Olaf College and Macalester College have eliminated the communication studies department and major. Go figure.
When St. Olaf was about to dismantle its "speech" department in the late '90s, I sent the President of St. Olaf the following letter in April 1998:
Dear Dr. Edwards [Mark Edwards, then President]:
I was both concerned and bemused to learn that St. Olaf College is considering elimination of its major in speech communication. I am concerned because such a move reflects a lack of appreciation for the value of a communication major. I am bemused because such thinking is counterproductive for a place such as St. Olaf and will, ironically, have adverse economic impact for the institution in the long run. [Note: part of their rationale for this decision involved "finances."]
As an academic discipline, speech communication has a long and proud heritage. As you may know, the study of rhetoric has been one cornerstone of a liberal education since ancient Rome and Greece. In the modern era, speech communication has as its central mission the exploration of communication in a variety of important contexts: public advocacy, mass-mediated rhetoric, and communication in interpersonal, small group, intercultural, and organizational settings. Communication majors will enter the 21st century with the knowledge and skills to make important contributions in education, law, business, print and broadcast journalism, religion, and a host of other fields.
Tacitly, it would appear that St. Olaf recognizes the importance of the communication discipline because a "communication emphasis" would continue to be part of the curriculum, with "communication" related courses being taught by faculty from other disciplines. I can tell you from experience that this is not a very workable plan. Although most of us speak and write English and read literature, that does not make us prepared to teach courses in an English department. By the same token, the fact that we all attempt to "communicate" does not mean that we all understand the conceptual elements of communication as articulated in a dozen of our major communication journals and a wide array of our textbooks--nor does it enable one to work effectively with students in the development of their communication skills. All of that takes formal training.
From a more pragmatic standpoint, I would urge you to consider that virtually every college and university in the state has an active, thriving department of communication. At Augsburg, nearly 250 students have chosen a communication major; two-thirds of them are in our Weekend College program for working adults. Overall, the communication program is a real "draw" for many of our students, and we think we do a good job of providing a challenging, meaningful, and academically sound curriculum. If St. Olaf were to abandon its communication major, we would no doubt stand to benefit at least a bit, as would every other school throughout the state. But that is not the way we would like to attract students; ideally, we would prefer to "earn" our communication majors rather than getting them by default.
I hope that St. Olaf does not dismantle its communication program. To do so would be a loss for your students and a loss for St. Olaf institutionally--it would put the college at a competitive disadvantage. The negative publicity alone would linger in many circles for years and ultimately offset any short-term savings. I was told yesterday that the Department of Speech and Theater had been planning a 50th anniversary celebration for the communication program. You can imagine how well-received the proposed abolition of the major will be from the many alumni attending this event. And you can imagine what I will have to tell prospective Augsburg communication majors when they come for a campus visit and tell me that St. Olaf is on their "short list" of college choices.
For all of these reasons, I truly believe that St. Olaf will be doing itself a favor by reconsidering its stance on this matter.
Sincerely, blah blah blah......
[Needless to say, "Howling Wolf" (that's me--what I wanted to call this blog, but the name was already taken) never heard back from President Edwards, and St. Olaf just went right ahead and deep-sixed the department anyway. But just the same I had to howl, if only to keep my sanity. Now having shared this dusty old letter, I can go back to being, simply, a contentious introvert.]
When St. Olaf was about to dismantle its "speech" department in the late '90s, I sent the President of St. Olaf the following letter in April 1998:
Dear Dr. Edwards [Mark Edwards, then President]:
I was both concerned and bemused to learn that St. Olaf College is considering elimination of its major in speech communication. I am concerned because such a move reflects a lack of appreciation for the value of a communication major. I am bemused because such thinking is counterproductive for a place such as St. Olaf and will, ironically, have adverse economic impact for the institution in the long run. [Note: part of their rationale for this decision involved "finances."]
As an academic discipline, speech communication has a long and proud heritage. As you may know, the study of rhetoric has been one cornerstone of a liberal education since ancient Rome and Greece. In the modern era, speech communication has as its central mission the exploration of communication in a variety of important contexts: public advocacy, mass-mediated rhetoric, and communication in interpersonal, small group, intercultural, and organizational settings. Communication majors will enter the 21st century with the knowledge and skills to make important contributions in education, law, business, print and broadcast journalism, religion, and a host of other fields.
Tacitly, it would appear that St. Olaf recognizes the importance of the communication discipline because a "communication emphasis" would continue to be part of the curriculum, with "communication" related courses being taught by faculty from other disciplines. I can tell you from experience that this is not a very workable plan. Although most of us speak and write English and read literature, that does not make us prepared to teach courses in an English department. By the same token, the fact that we all attempt to "communicate" does not mean that we all understand the conceptual elements of communication as articulated in a dozen of our major communication journals and a wide array of our textbooks--nor does it enable one to work effectively with students in the development of their communication skills. All of that takes formal training.
From a more pragmatic standpoint, I would urge you to consider that virtually every college and university in the state has an active, thriving department of communication. At Augsburg, nearly 250 students have chosen a communication major; two-thirds of them are in our Weekend College program for working adults. Overall, the communication program is a real "draw" for many of our students, and we think we do a good job of providing a challenging, meaningful, and academically sound curriculum. If St. Olaf were to abandon its communication major, we would no doubt stand to benefit at least a bit, as would every other school throughout the state. But that is not the way we would like to attract students; ideally, we would prefer to "earn" our communication majors rather than getting them by default.
I hope that St. Olaf does not dismantle its communication program. To do so would be a loss for your students and a loss for St. Olaf institutionally--it would put the college at a competitive disadvantage. The negative publicity alone would linger in many circles for years and ultimately offset any short-term savings. I was told yesterday that the Department of Speech and Theater had been planning a 50th anniversary celebration for the communication program. You can imagine how well-received the proposed abolition of the major will be from the many alumni attending this event. And you can imagine what I will have to tell prospective Augsburg communication majors when they come for a campus visit and tell me that St. Olaf is on their "short list" of college choices.
For all of these reasons, I truly believe that St. Olaf will be doing itself a favor by reconsidering its stance on this matter.
Sincerely, blah blah blah......
[Needless to say, "Howling Wolf" (that's me--what I wanted to call this blog, but the name was already taken) never heard back from President Edwards, and St. Olaf just went right ahead and deep-sixed the department anyway. But just the same I had to howl, if only to keep my sanity. Now having shared this dusty old letter, I can go back to being, simply, a contentious introvert.]
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
What's 40 years between friends?
Had dinner last night with my fellow members of the 1968 Sibley High School debate team. It's pretty awesome to realize that these are people I have not gone to school with in 40 bleeping years! And that we knew each other when John F. Kennedy was President! It's at times like that when I realize how freaking old I am getting. Quite an amazing group:
• Stan, Harvard Law School graduate, blues musician, and bankruptcy attorney;
• Mordecai, publisher and editor of the American Jewish World Newspaper;
• Mike, producer of the channel 6 cable show "It's a Woman's World"; and
• Randy, Stanford Law graduate, an attorney for the United Auto Workers.
I feel privileged to know these people, and to continue to have at least some sort of relationship with them--and I feel just plain lucky to be alive. And somehow, over a two and a half hour dinner, we managed to avoid virtually any "old people talk"--not a word about x-rays, CAT scans, bowel movements, or sciatica. Well, maybe a few words, but not more than 5 minutes. Take that, Grim Reaper!
• Stan, Harvard Law School graduate, blues musician, and bankruptcy attorney;
• Mordecai, publisher and editor of the American Jewish World Newspaper;
• Mike, producer of the channel 6 cable show "It's a Woman's World"; and
• Randy, Stanford Law graduate, an attorney for the United Auto Workers.
I feel privileged to know these people, and to continue to have at least some sort of relationship with them--and I feel just plain lucky to be alive. And somehow, over a two and a half hour dinner, we managed to avoid virtually any "old people talk"--not a word about x-rays, CAT scans, bowel movements, or sciatica. Well, maybe a few words, but not more than 5 minutes. Take that, Grim Reaper!
Friday, February 8, 2008
Can't keep up with e-life, or life in general
What's a fellow to do? I've got my work email, my Facebook account, my MySpace account, my Classmates account, and my blog (read daily by hundreds of thousands--nay, millions of people!). I can't keep up with it all--Sisyphus had it easier.
Today I can't write no more stuff. (I can't even write without a double negative.) So I will include something I wrote that appeared in today's campus newspaper, the Echo, which attempts to analyze why people who don't want to communicate (such as the college's President, at least in one context) actually are communicating. There may be a lesson here for all of us--or then again, maybe there isn't.
"Metamessages: a note on communication"
The Echo staff (Sean Stanhill specifically) has asked tenured faculty to weigh in on what we shall call the “Pribbenow issue.” And so I am answering that call, for a couple of reasons.
The first reason to give my perspective on this matter involves an obligation to participate from time to time in the affairs of the college community. But second, I see it as a good opportunity to share with the campus community what the communication studies discipline is all about. For many, what we do is basically make sure people sound sort of confident when they give a speech and make sure they don’t say “um” too often. Not surprisingly, we like to think that it’s far more than that. There are, frankly, a wide array of theoretical “lenses” through which we in communication studies might view the Pribbenow issue; I will employ only a few of them here.
As colleague Phil Adamo pointed out in the last Echo, President Pribbenow may well indeed have honorable intentions. And, in fact, my exchanges with the President have been pretty cordial. Most people, I like to think, have good intentions. However, one type of communication problem is what in our field would be called an “evocation” problem. That simply means, one can understand that another person sincerely wants something—in this case, not to “squelch healthy discourse”—but yet still does not fully believe it. In other words, the message does not evoke the intended response. So, despite his apparent good intentions, some people on campus simply can’t accept or don’t believe that the President’s “real” motivations are entirely up-front (dare I say not entirely “transparent”?). It is, in the end, a “trust” issue. Therefore, the President’s challenge is to convince us that he really wants his opinions to stay out of the school newspaper for good, convincing reasons. At this point, some people are simply not convinced.
Related to the evocation issue is one of the most hallowed principles of communication, proposed four decades ago in a seminal book in my field: Pragmatics of Human Communication. Therein lie four axioms of communication, the first of which is that “You cannot not communicate.” It’s a simple proposition, yet a very important one. What this means is that even when one chooses “not to communicate,” that still communicates something! This becomes the place where the President’s pledge to keep his opinions out of the campus newspaper can potentially backfire. When someone says that they refuse to communicate, even with good intentions, that refusal itself becomes communication.
What does that refusal mean? The problem is that people will make a variety of meanings out of it, and not all of them will be “flattering.” For some, not communicating is a type of disconfirmation—it says, in essence, that you are not important enough to communicate with. For others, it will convey the idea that one is defensive and does not want the kind of scrutiny that comes with such messages. That becomes the paradoxical problem within communication: not communicating still sends out a message.
On a related note, a basic precept of communication studies is that all messages have a content level and a relationship level. In this case, the content level is reasonably clear: the President says that the Echo is not a place to dominate with his personal opinions. But it’s at the relationship level where problems often arise—the relationship message is a type of “metamessage”; it’s a message about the message. In this case, many of the perceived relationship messages are negative. They would include:
• The Echo is not worth my time.
• The Echo isn’t an appropriate venue for expressing my opinions.
• There’s nothing really important that I could say in the Echo.
• I am so powerful that no one would dare to contradict me.
• I am more capable of presenting my views than others are.
• I must be a little “paternalistic” and protect people from my opinions.
• I prefer to listen than to be more actively involved as an advocate.
Again, not all of the “relationship” messages are necessarily “negative.” The President would want us to believe that his reticence to put his opinions in the Echo reflects an abiding respect for other members of the campus community. Again, that may be so. But, unfortunately, things are not being perceived that way.
In the end, I think the President’s refusal sends out the “wrong” message to too many people, despite his best intentions. The President does not have to see his role as inherently “domineering.” Indeed, he can help create a climate in which everyone’s ideas have a place and are heard, valued, respected, and embraced. But accomplishing such a goal will be a long hard climb in this situation. Just in case our CEO does not fully appreciate this, the mood among “non-tenured” people on this campus is on the wary and paranoid side. And really, who can blame them? Good intentions, a crisp bow tie, an upbeat weekly newsletter (which should of course continue), and a bright and bouncy demeanor (also a plus) can’t erase the fact that Augsburg has become a less secure place in some ways for many who are employed here.
Trust. It’s an important element of any relationship. And it tends to be rather fragile. That’s why now, of all times, I think the President should re-consider his stance on “silence” in the Echo. We desperately want to know what the people “at the top” are thinking. We are willing—even eager--to consider the President’s point of view. We will agree with some things and disagree with others, but we can handle the controversy. And, we can become stronger and more connected in the process. Yet we can’t do it—at least, in an inclusive, democratic culture—if everyone doesn’t participate.
The history of the study of communication, both at the private and at the public level, has a strong presumption toward openness, in my reading of things. Obviously there is a time and a place for silence and discretion. But until I can get to know you—who you are, what you believe, how you feel about me, what’s important to you—only until I know these things can I hope to have a meaningful relationship with you. With such an orientation, “not communicating” ceases to be either possible or productive.
Thus Spake Zarathustra.
Today I can't write no more stuff. (I can't even write without a double negative.) So I will include something I wrote that appeared in today's campus newspaper, the Echo, which attempts to analyze why people who don't want to communicate (such as the college's President, at least in one context) actually are communicating. There may be a lesson here for all of us--or then again, maybe there isn't.
"Metamessages: a note on communication"
The Echo staff (Sean Stanhill specifically) has asked tenured faculty to weigh in on what we shall call the “Pribbenow issue.” And so I am answering that call, for a couple of reasons.
The first reason to give my perspective on this matter involves an obligation to participate from time to time in the affairs of the college community. But second, I see it as a good opportunity to share with the campus community what the communication studies discipline is all about. For many, what we do is basically make sure people sound sort of confident when they give a speech and make sure they don’t say “um” too often. Not surprisingly, we like to think that it’s far more than that. There are, frankly, a wide array of theoretical “lenses” through which we in communication studies might view the Pribbenow issue; I will employ only a few of them here.
As colleague Phil Adamo pointed out in the last Echo, President Pribbenow may well indeed have honorable intentions. And, in fact, my exchanges with the President have been pretty cordial. Most people, I like to think, have good intentions. However, one type of communication problem is what in our field would be called an “evocation” problem. That simply means, one can understand that another person sincerely wants something—in this case, not to “squelch healthy discourse”—but yet still does not fully believe it. In other words, the message does not evoke the intended response. So, despite his apparent good intentions, some people on campus simply can’t accept or don’t believe that the President’s “real” motivations are entirely up-front (dare I say not entirely “transparent”?). It is, in the end, a “trust” issue. Therefore, the President’s challenge is to convince us that he really wants his opinions to stay out of the school newspaper for good, convincing reasons. At this point, some people are simply not convinced.
Related to the evocation issue is one of the most hallowed principles of communication, proposed four decades ago in a seminal book in my field: Pragmatics of Human Communication. Therein lie four axioms of communication, the first of which is that “You cannot not communicate.” It’s a simple proposition, yet a very important one. What this means is that even when one chooses “not to communicate,” that still communicates something! This becomes the place where the President’s pledge to keep his opinions out of the campus newspaper can potentially backfire. When someone says that they refuse to communicate, even with good intentions, that refusal itself becomes communication.
What does that refusal mean? The problem is that people will make a variety of meanings out of it, and not all of them will be “flattering.” For some, not communicating is a type of disconfirmation—it says, in essence, that you are not important enough to communicate with. For others, it will convey the idea that one is defensive and does not want the kind of scrutiny that comes with such messages. That becomes the paradoxical problem within communication: not communicating still sends out a message.
On a related note, a basic precept of communication studies is that all messages have a content level and a relationship level. In this case, the content level is reasonably clear: the President says that the Echo is not a place to dominate with his personal opinions. But it’s at the relationship level where problems often arise—the relationship message is a type of “metamessage”; it’s a message about the message. In this case, many of the perceived relationship messages are negative. They would include:
• The Echo is not worth my time.
• The Echo isn’t an appropriate venue for expressing my opinions.
• There’s nothing really important that I could say in the Echo.
• I am so powerful that no one would dare to contradict me.
• I am more capable of presenting my views than others are.
• I must be a little “paternalistic” and protect people from my opinions.
• I prefer to listen than to be more actively involved as an advocate.
Again, not all of the “relationship” messages are necessarily “negative.” The President would want us to believe that his reticence to put his opinions in the Echo reflects an abiding respect for other members of the campus community. Again, that may be so. But, unfortunately, things are not being perceived that way.
In the end, I think the President’s refusal sends out the “wrong” message to too many people, despite his best intentions. The President does not have to see his role as inherently “domineering.” Indeed, he can help create a climate in which everyone’s ideas have a place and are heard, valued, respected, and embraced. But accomplishing such a goal will be a long hard climb in this situation. Just in case our CEO does not fully appreciate this, the mood among “non-tenured” people on this campus is on the wary and paranoid side. And really, who can blame them? Good intentions, a crisp bow tie, an upbeat weekly newsletter (which should of course continue), and a bright and bouncy demeanor (also a plus) can’t erase the fact that Augsburg has become a less secure place in some ways for many who are employed here.
Trust. It’s an important element of any relationship. And it tends to be rather fragile. That’s why now, of all times, I think the President should re-consider his stance on “silence” in the Echo. We desperately want to know what the people “at the top” are thinking. We are willing—even eager--to consider the President’s point of view. We will agree with some things and disagree with others, but we can handle the controversy. And, we can become stronger and more connected in the process. Yet we can’t do it—at least, in an inclusive, democratic culture—if everyone doesn’t participate.
The history of the study of communication, both at the private and at the public level, has a strong presumption toward openness, in my reading of things. Obviously there is a time and a place for silence and discretion. But until I can get to know you—who you are, what you believe, how you feel about me, what’s important to you—only until I know these things can I hope to have a meaningful relationship with you. With such an orientation, “not communicating” ceases to be either possible or productive.
Thus Spake Zarathustra.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)