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.

Magical Left-Wing Professors

Wondering about those professors who are brainwashing your youth? Here’s a snapshot of one.

I had retired from a small state university on the East Coast, and was looking for adventures in corporate America. In order to get my first corporate university job, I had to take a personality test and a drug test. Unlike most true academics from the sixties, I passed the urine exam, even though I found myself strangely paranoid about taking it and uneasy about having to take it.

The personality test was fun. I’ve taken these all my adult life (to get jobs selling fruitcakes, to see if I could be a good military officer, etc.) find them fascinating, and had fun taking this one. In the last interview, the academic vice president asked me what I do when I don’t get my own way. I responded with “OK, so tell me how I did on the personality test.” The vice president responded that “it seems like you have a strong will.” I concurred with the findings.

When I asked if they did random drug tests, she looked at me funny.

I sat in my cube in a corporate environment, far from the ivy-covered walls of my imagination, far from the esoteric debates of a faculty senate wrestling over some grammatical issue relating to governance. My desk was clean; one coffee cup adorned it. And I drank decaf by myself. It was quiet, still, business-like. There was no ivy; there was no tradition; there were no students physically present, no hacky sack, no skateboards, no kids smoking —it was an online university.

The faculty members who taught the courses (“adjuncts”) were lesser mortals, just like those in the more traditional universities, who taught online courses filled with 30 to 40 students, for which they were not paid much, and certainly not what they were worth. I was their leader.

I smiled at memos, emailed from the president, urging me not to talk about recent downsizing decisions, indicating that it would not be consistent with good “organizational behavior” practices. I smiled at the president’s consternation with me when I challenged issues/decisions in meetings. I was the only one who did challenge. There were others who had in the past; they were no longer employees of the university.

Professors in traditional universities are required to teach, publish, and serve the university and larger communities in a variety of ways. A day in the life of a professor, as I experienced it for some 25 years, began around 8:00 A.M. Formal meetings of one sort or another—curriculum meetings, space committee meetings, committee on committees meetings, department meetings, senate meetings, etc.—took a piece of the day, sandwiched between courses (one to five courses with 30 to 300 students in each), and involved ritual coffee consumption. Lunch was an important time for meeting colleagues to discuss politics, the university, teaching, and research ideas. By 3:00 P.M. I generally went home, to return by 6:00 P.M. to teach a course or work on projects. By 9:30 P.M. I was home again, sometimes reading or working until the wee hours. There were some days when I spent most of my time at home working on courses or research or training projects, but most days I was at the university. Many days it was exhilarating. Every day was interesting.

Funny, we never discussed how to turn students into left-wing ideologues. I must have missed the memo instructing us to do so. Maybe we should have had a committee on this.

During an interview for my first corporate university professor/administrator job, I was told that I was entering a corporate environment in which I “would not be allowed to behave as a traditional academic”, and would be required to be in my cubicle by 8:00 A.M., take an hour for lunch, and leave the building by 5:00 P.M. The only exception to this rule was when management decided that I needed to work extra hours, for which I would not be paid, because I was in an exempt position. When I told the vice president in the interview that this would be a reduction in hours for me from my usual traditional academic leader role, she looked at me funny.

Are there differences between professorial life in traditional universities and life in corporate universities? Professors in traditional universities still like to believe we run the universities, but most don’t actually believe we do. Corporate universities intentionally communicate that faculty are employees-at-will with invisible time clocks to monitor our face time. Otherwise it’s more or less the same.

We never discussed turning students into lefties in this environment, either. We did discuss students as a part of our revenue-enhancing metrics, however. Free enterprise ruled.

I believe that most people choose to become professors, whether in traditional or corporate universities, because of dreams and ideals. We believe that exploring truths is important. We believe that stimulating other people to explore is also important. We believe that democracies demand that people be educated; i.e., willing and equipped to question conventional wisdom, to go beyond oneself to thinking about other folks in the past, present, and future, about God and evolution, about things seen and unseen, about important issues. We believe that colleges and universities provide people with a relatively safe haven in which to conduct important personal, spiritual, and interpersonal exploration. Universities were not designed, we believe, to ensure employment afterward, but to provide a climate of free expression and exploration the result of which is to ensure that people better contribute to the world, spiritually, politically, fiscally, and in terms of stewardship of the resources we use and manage.

These ideals, dreams, and values are hard to hold onto in the real world of academia, traditional or corporate, and I have watched their erosion in my colleagues and myself over the years. The U.S. has always seemed to be anti-intellectual, but in my lifetime I’ve witnessed a cynical acceleration of this attitude.

And with this cynicism comes the paranoia that results in the belief that somehow professors have the magical power to convert students into non-God-fearing leftist robots. I would laugh but I’m too tired.