Politics and Metaphors

I’ve been on a reading binge. A friend of mine, Tom Isbell, gave me a book written by George Lakoff called Whose Freedom?: The Battle over America’s Most Important Idea, written in 2006. It’s a good read for my old brain.

I’m wondering about one of his notions in particular. We use a lot of family metaphors to talk about our country (e.g., Founding Fathers, Daughters of the American Revolution, Homeland Security, Family Values). Dr. Lakoff thinks this is not accidental, but reflects a fundamental view of the country-as-family that in turn points to a way of understanding, metaphorically, how the “right wing” conservatives view the country as opposed to how the “left wing” progressives see it.

One way of providing the context for this, according to Lakoff, is to define:

The nation as family,

Its citizens as children (not pejoratively but in terms of relationship in the family), and

Its national leaders as parents (again, not pejoratively but in terms of relationship in the family).

In U.S. culture, according to Lakoff, there are two polar opposites in terms of defining parenting:

The strict father model as exemplified more generally by conservatives, and

The nurturing parent model, exemplified more generally by progressives.

Lakoff believes that neither is better, and effective parenting (and nation governing) may include both approaches, each used for different situations.

But he thinks that, if I sit down in my easy chair on a Sunday evening and think about which of these approaches to parenting (strict father/nurturing parent) I might prefer in general as a model, I would probably choose one over the other as my ideal approach.

Similarly, if I were to sit in that same chair and think about which of these approaches I would prefer as a governing principle and ideal approach in this homeland I call the U.S. of A., I would probably choose one over the other—strict father or nurturing parent—which would put me, theoretically, more into either the conservative or progressive political camp.

I’m wondering if this metaphor works as Lakoff thinks it does as a means of explaining the current “right wing” conservative and “left wing” progressive approaches to politics.

If the metaphor did work, wouldn’t the alternative views (recognizing they don’t exist purely in the world) be that either:

1.     The nation demands strict adherence to a set of codified rules for its citizens, enforced by strong father figure leaders, or

2.     The nation provides guidelines for rules of behaviors of its citizens, loosely enforced by nurturing leaders

I wonder which of these choices reflects conservative thinking and which reflects progressives.

Makes me swimmy headed. Maybe my example was not put together well.

I know! How about Transactional Analysis, with its Parent/Adult/Child metaphors. Remember that? Maybe, using the same language as Lakoff, I could explain politics with TA like this:

We progressives communicate, always, as responsible adults; conservatives communicate, inappropriately, as children; and our leaders are those always-critical parents who need to be kept in line by responsible adult progressives.

That metaphor is more fun, and certainly ought to start some fights with my conservative friends (says my child).

Lakoff’s book is good and I recommend it. But not for light summer reading.

Thank you Tom.

Kentucky Poems: Coal

Mining Was

My father was a powder man.

Big John cold-cocked a bank mule

With his fist, so the story goes.

Mythological.

My father, six foot two and smiling at age thirty.

Five foot ten and in pain at age sixty.

Shrunk from the giant he once was.

Demeaning.

My father, proud and strong in youth.

Tired and coughing with age.

Bent into an old man.

Killing.

My father, smile bright in youth.

Smile died as mines shut.

Old love lost to time and age.

His life.

Coal Smoke

Westerfield Drive, coming from 41A,

Past the arch, cresting the hill.

Early winter morning in small town Kentucky.

Above, gun metal steel, gray and threatening.

Below, morning charcoal spreading over the valley.

Coal smoke, thick and unyielding.

Driving into the coal smoke.

Metallic taste.

Exhaling smoke through lungs and pores.

Pores extending to extrude the clinkers.

Jesus will save you,

But white shirts are beyond redemption.

Stark cold slicing through coats,

Settling into bones.

Numbing the spirit and clouding judgment.

Film noir through the windshield,

Cold black and gray trees, shadows, pavement.

Shivering don’t help.

Ice in the air, black shine covering the road.

Tires straining to find traction,

Down Main Street, up town hill,

Left, then right, then left again,

Up iceplant hill, and home.

Coal stove glows a welcoming orange.

The Prize

My father, home from the mines,

Hands, face, overalls, and hair caked with coal dust.

My mother, heating water on the stove

To be poured into a number three washtub.

My father, a giant with a smile on his tired face,

Stripping off clothes,

Folding his big body, pallid except for the mining parts,

Into the little tub.

Tub water becoming slaggish,

Gritty to the touch, scum floating on top.

My mother washing his back.

Water sloshing onto tired linoleum.

In the top of the dinner bucket, in a pan

Over the water that fills the bottom, my prize awaits.

Fried egg and half-cooked bacon

On soggy white Holsum Bread.

The coal stove warms the house.

The bathing ritual continues.

I, content in the moment, eat what is left

Of my father’s dinner.

Two KY poems

Wondering about the power of poetry to convey wonderment. Here are two very-rough-draft poems I'm working on:

Kentucky Woman

Her life,

A single-wide trailer.

New in 58 and neglected.

Her mood,

Beer air, stale and close,

Cigarette burns on worn linoleum.

Her hair,

A rusty yellow Firebird,

Not quite legal, but clean.

Her eyes,

Third-shift piece work,

Hard and demanding.

Her spirit,

Red eyes, with hints of green

Search for a way out.

Stickman

Stickman died young.

Cigarettes and beer,

And a dash of Viet Nam.

Lived life a day at a time.

Not the 12 step program,

He two-stepped through life.

Stories are told about the man

With spread-eagled horse in the Eagle’s Club.

Horse, not Stick, was banned forever.

Alcohol drips at the hospital.

Jim, he said to me, while hooked to the tube,

Best invention ever.

Wondering About Choice and Women

My momma and daddy had a expression, common in Kentucky when I was growing up: “You made your bed, now lie in it.” As I grew up, this message sort of stuck with me. As I studied various philosophers, novelists, and thinkers, the language of the message changed a bit, but the message has been a valuable guide for me:

“For me to be an authentic human being, I must make choices, act on those choices, and take responsibility for my actions.”

Over the years my friends and my students have yelled at me about this noble sentiment. Some, more polite than others, let me know that even though it may be true that authenticity demands choice making, the context of those choices may be out of my control, and may in fact be more significant than the choices themselves. For example, I can’t simply choose to be brilliant. Too bad, but it’s true.

My less subtle friends and students say, “Are you that naïve? Are you that arrogant? Are you crazy?”

OK. I get it. The choices I make are constrained by realities, some from within myself, some from the outside and over which I have zero control. I don’t live in a bubble.

So, now I’m wondering about choices, with all their realities, as related to politics and women.

One of the first-lady-wannabes, Mrs. Romney, was charged by an opposing political party representative with having “never worked a day in her life,” which of course prompted a widespread hue and cry. My interest was drawn to two of her responses.

Response One. “My career choice was to be a mother.”

God bless her. The choices from which she had to pick, and their realities, were all quite good. Her circumstances were such that she had the economic means (she and her husband were wealthy) to have as many kids as they wanted and not have to worry about their care (they had nannies, etc.), feeding, housing (they owned several houses), schooling (choice of free public or expensive private schools), etc.

My momma had a career choice as well. The realities were that my father was an unemployed miner. Mining was the only way to make a good living where I grew up. He cobbled together little jobs here and there, but could not make a living. Neither of my parents graduated from high school. My momma’s choice was to stay at home with me or go to work. If she stayed at home, we would not have a roof over our heads or food or clothing, but she could have chosen to do so. She chose work, and spent the rest of her life in a career as a laborer in factories. God bless her.

My sister had a career choice too. Her husband was a drunk, nice guy who became abusive. She had two small kids. Her choice was to stay in the relationship or get out. If she chose to get out, she became the breadwinner, which meant she had to go to work, leaving her two kids while she worked. She chose to get out of the marriage, go to work, and spend a significant part of her life working as a laborer in factories. God bless her.

I have known families that were dirt poor, but made the decision that the woman would stay at home because they sincerely believed that this was so important that they would make sacrifices. They limited the number of kids they had to a number they could support, they did without everything but the absolute basics, and survived. God bless them.

And I have known couples who could afford for one of them to stay home with the kids. Both of them did not need to work. They chose to work. Both of them worked because they saw a benefit to the kids of being with other kids in other environments. God bless them.

Mrs. Romney’s husband, Mr. Romney, said about choices he made as Governor of Massachusetts:

I said, for instance, that even if you have a child two years of age, you need to go to work. And people said, ‘Well that’s heartless,’ and I said ‘No, no, I’m willing to spend more giving daycare to allow those parents to go back to work. It’ll cost the state more providing that daycare, but I want the individuals to have the dignity of work.

I’m wondering why individuals should be forced to have “the dignity of work”? Why should my choice to stay out of the workforce and care for my kids somehow make me less dignified? How does going to work enhance my dignity? Why does my dignity need enhancing?

I wonder about the logic and wisdom of this governmental intervention.

I wonder if my momma and sister would have agreed that they gained dignity from their factory work that they did not find from being mothers.

I agree with Mrs. Romney that her choice was her choice, just like my momma’s, sister’s, and countless others, and should not be second-guessed by political pundits or some rich governor’s whim.

Mrs. Romney’s Response Two: “We have to respect the choices women make.”

Not everyone believes individual human beings have choice. Some sincere supreme-being believers believe that there is no such thing as free will, hence no choice. Some true believers in the religion of science  believe that we are determined by chemical/biological/genetic forces and have no choices other than those we, in our land of make believe, think we have.

It has only been recently, in the last century or so, that people who study these sorts of things for a living decided that individual choice was indeed a fact of life, God or no God, Science or no Science.

What a difference that makes. If being human entails the ability, and obligation, to make choices, it puts some significant responsibility on my head. I can no longer blame God or my genes for all my misfortune.

I’m wondering why this radical difference seems not to apply to women so much.

Today, preachers and priests in their god-given wisdom say that taking a human life is wrong, except of course if that life form is a prisoner—usually black, an enemy of the U.S.—usually Muslim, an military enemy combatant, or someone I think may be breaking into my home to steal my stuff.

These same preachers, distrusting science as devil-work, claim that god also told them how to define what life is—“I hereby declare that life means ____ and begins at____—God told me so”.

I wonder how we got to be so arrogant, but do love that congresswoman in Oklahoma who wrote a bill that would define the start of life at ejaculation. The bill was shot down by laughing male masturbators (I wonder if that’s redundant)  because it constrained their freedom of choice.

So, I wonder if we’ve decided that “Of course people have choices, that’s what freedom and liberty mean, but by people we really mean men, because that’s what our forefathers said, ain’t it (all men are created equal), and we can’t really trust our womenfolk, them being emotional and all, to make decisions. And it ain’t their choices to make really, is it.”

Consequently, the states and the feds are running feverishly trying to pass laws to make sure "them women" don’t screw up and make the wrong decisions (and become sluts). Women, they say, should not have choices about their sexual experiences, or what to do about their incest experience, their rape experience, or their abuse experience or anything that might upset the church and its preacher/priest-types and the politicians who feel threatened by women.

Of course, we must also make sure that poor women learn dignity, which they have lost by being “only a mother”, by requiring them to get real jobs in the factories and call centers of the U.S. It is apparent that wealthy women have already achieved a high level of dignity by having made that career choice to take on the hardest job in the word—being a mother.

Mrs. Romney, I agree with your sentiment that women’s choices, career and otherwise, should be respected, and should not be demeaned by political pundits or office holders. I appreciate your saying it in public, and wish you well.

We are Lyin'; Are we Dyin'?

I’ve been reading through old books that were interesting to me back in the day. Ran across one I haven’t looked at in years, Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life by Sissela Bok, published in 1978.

What I particularly liked about Bok (and still do) was that she talked about whether or not lying is in fact an issue of morality, discussed the multiple nuances of truth telling, deception, lying, etc.,  and brought the Greeks, Nietzsche, and even game theorists into the discussion.

But what I’m wondering about right now relates to a specific statement Ms. Bok made on page 19 of the Vintage paperback sitting on my desk:

“Imagine a society, no matter how ideal in other respects, where word and gesture could never be counted upon.”

Imagine a society where you could not trust that anyone was telling you the truth about anything.

I wonder if we are not there, now.

Back in the days when I taught interpersonal communication, my first questions on the first day of classes were: “When you meet a person for the first time, do you assume that this person is honest and is telling you the truth?” And “If you don’t assume this, why do you continue to talk to that person?”

If you enter into a conversation with the expectation that the other person is intentionally lying to you, deceiving you, routinely, where does that conversation lead?

I worked in public universities most of my life. In those institutions there was an expectation of truth telling, even when it was painful. Politics was intense, much ado over angels dancing on pin heads, but truth telling was valued. I worked as executive assistant to the president of such an institution, and one of my primary duties was “flak catcher” and representative for the president. I remember sitting down with Ted Kennedy’s and  Barney Frank’s assistants early in my tenure in this position. When one of their constituents had an issue with the university, they went to Kennedy or Frank, who went to their assistants, who came to me. The congressmen and their assistants had only one request of me: tell the truth as far as I knew, no matter the outcome.

I found out on multiple occasions that the congressmen were telling me the truth about this request and I always responded with the truth to them. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that aided the university, the president, and me.

Faculty Senates are always fun organizations in traditional universities. One of my roles was to appear, as a representative of the president, in front of the Senate to request information, provide information, or try to fight fires. When I appeared, they expected me to be honest. If they thought I was not being honest, I could count on Professors Kamm, Kaput, Upchurch, Koot, and others to call me on it, in no uncertain terms. There was a mutual expectation that created a mutually beneficial relationship that served the university and its faculty, staff, and students well.

I worked in corporate higher education for close to ten years after retiring from UMass Dartmouth. Lying was an expectation in those institutions. Disguises were thin veils. “Team player” was a term used to describe someone who knew better than to be honest.

Dishonesty started with behaviors toward students before they were admitted. Admissions representatives were trained to make sales in one one-hour calls, during which little listening could be done by students or reps, and much hard-core sales took place, using the sales models from the telecommunications industry, without regard for truth-telling.

Faculty Senates at these organizations, while begun with good intentions, perhaps, quickly disintegrated when faculty members actually believed they had some stake in the organizations and began to tell the truth and expect to be told the truth in return. Incorrect expectations. It was awful to watch, let alone be a part of.

Lying and deceit was persuasive, to the point that I went into meetings, discussions, conversations, with the expectation that I was being lied to. Strange behaviors ensued.

I am seeing the expectation of lies spread into the world of politics in the U.S. today. In conversations at coffee shops, postings on Facebook, and in interviews in the media I hear increasingly harsh language (like “throw all the bums out”) reflecting an attitude. People believe they are being lied to, routinely.

I do remember a time when, while “politicians” might all be dishonest, I knew that Senator _____ or Congressman ______, persons who represented me in Congress, were honest—I could trust them to represent my interests.  People do not believe that anymore.

And politicians are getting more brazen about lying—saying things they know are lies, knowing that people will know that they are lies, and knowing that people won’t care because they expect to be lied to. So as long as the lies reflect what people want to believe, the lying politician will win votes.

The advertisements aired by PACs are increasingly bald-faced in their lies. PAC supporters know they are lying, know that people know they are lying, and know that as long as they say what people want to hear, the ads will be successful.

I’m not talking about “little white lies” (“Am I losing my hair?” “Oh, no, honey, it’s just the light”) that we all have to decide about daily. I’m talking about bald faced, dishonest, deceitful lies (“I read somewhere that California universities don’t teach American History”, “Obama is a Muslim”, “Obama is an atheist”, “George W. was a closet drunk”).

If I can’t trust you to be honest with me in conversations, I don’t want to have conversations with you. If I can’t be honest in my behaviors in the workplace, I don’t want to work there. 

If I believe that people are inherently untrustworthy, am I not more apt to believe the most bodacious conspiracy theory and have a shotgun at the ready beside the front door of my house?

If I assume that people (politicians or otherwise) are lying to me, it really doesn’t matter who I vote for, does it? Throwing the current bums out and replacing them with new bums won’t help matters, will it?

If we vote with the expectation that the people for whom we vote are lying to us, and will continue to lie to us when they are elected, I wonder what effect that might have on our democracy?

Bok says, again on page 19, “Deceit and violence—these are the two forms of deliberate assault on human beings,” and “society could scarcely function without some degree of truthfulness in speech and action.”

I wonder if truthfulness in speech and action is quickly becoming a thing of the past.

I’m wondering if the dishonesty that, in my experience at least, runs rampant in corporate America, and in the political structure as we Americans see it will kill this country far faster than birth control or gay marriage.

I wonder if this great society will die because we lie.

Ambition, Stepping Up, and the Olympics

My great grand niece is 13 years old, is already an accomplished swimmer,  and is ranked very highly in competitive standings. She is focused. She is poised. She is intelligent. And she has a major life goal to compete in the 2016 Olympics. This is not a “wouldn’t it be great if” goal, this is an honest-to-God goal toward which she expends a lot of physical energy in the pool and mental energy researching other swimmers’ progress.

I’m wondering how such folks get to this point at such a young age. There are a lot of very good swimmers out there. There are even some excellent swimmers. But how many have the vision and focus to exploit that excellence into larger-than-life (for most of us) goals that we are willing and able to act on?

Is the answer somehow rooted in the environment in which one grows up? Maybe so. I grew up in small town Kentucky, the son of working class poor folks who did not graduate from high school. In this environment it was difficult to surmount the obstacles, to see beyond the moment, and to take a goal and a talent and develop them despite all odds. On the other hand there are people in this small town who did.

But I wasn’t one of them. In the first place, I’m not sure I had any real talent, but if I did, it was really easy for me to not recognize it, to diminish it, to doubt it, and not to act on it. I also had no “goals”, larger-than-life, or otherwise, upon which to wrap my talents. I was insecure, shy, and believed that modesty, a sort of notion that one should not stand out too far—it wouldn’t look right—was a value. That last trait might be a product of this small town Kentucky value system. It was unseemly to aspire too high.

I remember one person in town talking about me, after I finished my Ph.D. (accidently, not as a result of an overwhelming goal), to a friend of mine about me, as reported to me later by this friend: “Damn, who does he think he is? What do you have to talk to him about? Ain’t he kind of uppity now? When’s the last time he had an actual job?”

In my elementary school back in the day, rooms were organized with the teacher’s desk in front, and a blackboard behind the desk. Students sat in connected desks, arranged in rows, bolted to the floor. In a lot of cases, seating was assigned in such a way as to encourage motivation (or so the theory must have gone). The student sitting in the first desk, on the right side of the teacher facing the classroom, was the “star”, having become so by successfully competing in academic contests, resulting in her moving to this “star” position. Of course that meant that the student sitting in the last desk at the end of the row on the teacher’s left was the dumb one. He (usually) was called dumb, and if pressed, would admit to being pretty dumb.

My “seating philosophy” called for me to avoid that dumb desk—teachers’ tended to pick on you in that seat. Some even threw things at you. However, I also wanted not to do so well as to find myself in that star seat—it might be unseemly—and students tended to pick on you. A nice safe desk was what I wanted. As I look back on it, I do believe this philosophy was held by most of my classmates.

The Valedictorian of my class had no problem with that star seat and was willing to put up with whatever fallout ensued. I think this was because he was a bright student with math talent who had a long-term and clear goal that went beyond the immediate seating situation. I remember his telling me several times, from elementary school on, that he was going to become a chemist and make lots of money. Now, this was not a “I’m going to compete in the Olympics” goal, but it was a strong goal for someone to achieve.

He did.

I graduated in the second slot. Safe seat.

In college, I was .2 percent points short of graduating with honors. Nice, safe seat.

Reflecting on my continued seating philosophy, I find my lack of motivation to sit in the front seat most instructive, believe I was not alone in that motivation, and believe that says a lot about where, when, and how I grew up. 

Despite the environment in which we grew up,  I believe we have all made important decisions, whether or not we knew it at the time, that have shaped who and what we have become. I’m not arguing the merits of positive thinking, goal setting, wishing upon stars, bootstrapping, or any particular self help program.

But, I’m wondering:

·       How a person grows up in an environment where having big, “stretch” goals is not encouraged and yet manages to achieve the extraordinary

·       How to define extraordinary achievement

·       If not having those extraordinary goals is a negative thing

And, I’m wondering:

·       What causes some people, like me, to play it safe, while others take large risks in their lives to achieve dreams and goals?

·       What’s wrong with playing it safe?

Let’s say you lack a clear-cut “calling” to things spectacular, buy into the notion that sitting in the middle of the classroom is better than at the front, and don’t rock the boat. What’s wrong with that?

Nothing, but “at the end of the day” (as you reach my age) you will wonder about the choices you made, and what you might have missed.

Let’s say you have a desire to be a rock and roll star,  aspire to that front seat, and don’t mind rocking the boat (pun intended). And you wind up playing good music in a sleazy bar barely making ends meet. What’s wrong with that?

Nothing, but “at the end of the day” (as you reach my age) you will wonder what might have happened if you had more sharply focused your talents and energies.

But let’s say you want to be an Olympic swimming champion, don’t care what people say about that ambition, aspire to that front seat, and don’t care about rocking boats. And you wind up competing at the Olympics. What’s wrong with that?

Nothing, and when you are my age you will look back with pride (which I’m saying is a good thing in this case, not one of the deadly sins).

My niece has a huge goal, huge talent, doesn’t abide by the seating charts that others create, and she probably will rock some boats. She plans to be an Olympic swimming champion competing in Rio. I think she has the right idea, and admire her for it.

I plan to be in Rio in 2016. Vicarious pleasures on my part.