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.
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