Category Archives: Citizens & Civil Society

Communication and Understanding

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Can one person ever truly understand another?

Certainly communication among people who speak the same language is generally good enough for every day purposes. And, even with language barriers, some non-verbal communication can transcend such trivialities.

But just because two people can communicate relatively effectively, doesn’t necessarily mean that they truly understand each other on a deeper level.

Someone told me recently that speech and writing are the most inefficient means of data transfer.

They’re not wrong – I can’t transfer an idea the way I might give you a physical object. I have to describe it, and you have to recreate it.

I describe it using my language, knowledge, and experience, drawing on my understanding of the world to express myself. Then you take those little pieces and try to use your own knowledge and experience to recreate what I have described.

If we come from similar backgrounds this might be relatively easy – we probably speak the same language, and might share similar knowledge and experience to draw from. If we come from very different background this will be more difficult.

Functional communication can be achieved under either scenario, but the possibilities for deeper communication are unclear. I like to think it is possible in the more difficult situation, but I wonder if it is truly possible even in the easier situation.

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The False Utility of Civic Engagement

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Civic engagement is often seen as a utility.

There are problems in society, so we need to galvanize “The People” to do something about it. “The People” have power, after all. If only they can be motivated to claim it.

But who are these shadowy Masses who could control our country’s destiny?

Well, they are us.

Walter Lippman was always skeptical of “The Public,” describing them as a “bewildered herd” liable to “arrive in the middle of the third act and will leave before the last curtain, having stayed just long enough perhaps to decide who is the hero and who the villain of the piece.”

In my opinion, Lippman didn’t say this because he was an elitist technocrat, but because he recognized the danger in formulating a “phantom public” which disempowered a key population -

That would be you and me.

There is no real “public,” just lots of individual people with individual lives, beliefs, opinions, concerns, and priorities.

So I get a little skeptical when people refer to “the public” as a tool. Want to change a law? Get a certain number of signatures or a certain number of votes. Want to challenge the status quo? Get a large turnout for a protest or rally. Perhaps a certain number of views on a video where you’ll never believe what happened next.

And perhaps this makes sense. After all, it seems reasonable to have some threshold of demonstrating public support.

But there is no “Public” and civic engagement is not merely a utility.

It is great to engage people in a cause or an issue, to mobilize “people power” in changing the way things are done.

But I believe there is real value, fundamental value, in simply having people live and work and function together.

Communities are better when people – all people – have a voice within that community. People are better when every person around them has a voice.

So go ahead and push for a change. Fight for what you believe in and try to get others to fight along side you. But always remember that true engagement is deeper than that. True engagement is more than a cause or a battle or an issue.

It is listening genuinely to everyone around you. Empowering them to have their voices heard. It is recognizing that we are all better – individually and collectively – when every person is engaged.

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A Challenge for Public Work

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I am generally in favor of the idea of public work – people co-creating communities through their work.

It’s a very romantic idea. Revaluing the workers, the creators, the doers who literally shape our world every day.

We may be accustomed to appropriately thinking of teachers as civic workers. But what about the architects who design our schools or the construction workers who build our schools? What about the custodial staff or others who work tirelessly to make the school run? Is their work civic, too? A lens of public work would say it is.

Perhaps what I find most alluring about the framework of Public Work is that it genuinely values the work that every person puts into an effort. It doesn’t so much matter what you bring to the table, but Public Work acknowledges that everyone brings something of value to the table.

But while I find Public Work appealing, I have a hard time appreciating what this ideal would really look like in practice.

For example, I attend a lot of civic events of various types. Sometimes I’m a guest, sometimes I’m a host, and sometimes I am staff.

I’ve noticed over the years that I participate in the work, the content of the event, very differently depending on my role. As a guest I enjoy and engage, as a host I make sure everyone’s having a good time, and as staff I’m focused on the logistics of three steps ahead.

I may be the same person in every mode, but my work is not equal nor, perhaps, equally valued.

I’ve generally attributed this to my own archaic view of social roles. I did, after all, spend much of my childhood in a Victorian-area historic park. So, as much as I am passionate about worker’s rights and respecting all types of workers, I have to admit there is a certain part of me which still defaults to Downton Abbey-type norms.

There’s a certain propriety about the class hierarchy. A certain seemliness which, as much as I may fight it in society, I tend embrace in myself. There’s just a certain way one ought to behave when you are The Help, I suppose.

But as I’ve noticed my own effortless transitions between different roles – an honored guest, a gracious host, a silent staffer – I started to wonder if there was a deeper challenge here.

Don’t get me wrong, class divides are a deep challenge and I fully recognized that not everyone has the same experience as me in this regard. After all, not everyone has the luxury of walking between these roles.

But there is a challenge even deeper than ingrained social roles.

When I am in a supporting role, my biggest challenge may not be that I don’t feel welcome to participate as a guest – it’s that I don’t have the capacity for it.

I am so caught up in the logistic details, so exhausted from the effort so far, and so focused on completing the last few miles that I honestly would rather not participate more fully.

Perhaps this is only a challenge for us introverts, but when I am working an event, I honestly don’t want a seat at the table. I want a seat in the back where I can have a moment of silence of and relax my smile.

If I attended a replica event in the role of a guest, I would have few qualms about chiming in or speaking up. But the very role of staffing – social norms aside – diminishes my capacity to engage in this way.

And this to me is the challenge for Public Work. It is great to say that everyone’s work is valued. It is great to say that everyone’s role is important. That’s the right ethic to strive for, and fully support that view.

But while every person might have the capacity to contribute equally to the work, every role does not. Every worker does not. Someone’s voice will be left out.

And I don’t know the solution to this challenge, because I’m not sure I want to attend an unstaffed event. Really. That would be chaos.

You need people who will make these event run, who will make them go. And those people contribute greatly and importantly – and essentially – to the work. You should, of course, thank them for their efforts, but the challenge remains -

They haven’t been able to contribute all they could contribute. Possibly because of social norms, but also because their work simply didn’t allow it.

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The Right Message vs Effective Narrative

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I was struck today by a feminist article pushing back on Emma Watson’s recent UN speech on feminism.

In case you missed it, Watson’s talk has been extremely well received as a powerful and moving declaration of the need to push past old stereotypes. Her speech was so powerful, in fact, that certain anti-feminism vigilantes have threatened retribution, presumably in the hopes of silencing her.

The feminist complaints from renown blogger Mia McKenzie continue an ongoing debate in the feminist world. For example, Watson’s line, “I want men to take up this mantle. So their daughters, sisters, and mothers can be free from prejudice,” arguably implies that women are only definable insofar as their relationship to men. This male-centric approach ultimately does little to bring about the real change that is needed.

I was struck by this push back – in a sea of praise – in part because it feels like a debate over narrative and style rather than over ultimate substance.

I don’t mean that to demean the debate in any way – I work in communications because I believe that narrative and style are essential. But what I mean is – I suspect that if you put Emma Watson and Mia McKenzie in a room together (which would be amazing) they would generally agree about many things.

They might disagree on tactics and approach, but I suspect they would agree on outcomes.

Perhaps I am seeing something which is not there, but reading McKenzie’s response reminded me of the work of Nina Eliasoph, a sociologist who has done extensive field research with activist groups.

In private, activists would speak passionately about an issue, but in public, they would change their narrative. No longer passionate about the issue, they’d frame their concern as pure self-interest. Suddenly they were “just a mom protecting their kids.”

The reason behind this change in narrative is unclear, but Eliasoph observes this divergence again and again.

I am fascinated by this change in narrative. Whether it was an intentional media strategy or a subconscious shift, it seems to indicate a dissonance between their internal feelings and they way they feel the ought to articulate those beliefs.

In Eliasoph’s case studies, the change seemed to hurt the activists, as their passionate narratives were lost. But, of course, a carefully crafted media message can be beneficial as well.

McKenzie’s arguments are the inner voice of feminism. The voice that speaks with passion about the real abuse, the real trauma, that all women have suffered at the hands of men. The voice that proudly proclaims that the dominant narrative is not the only narrative, that fights back against the idea that women, people of color, LGBTQ communities, and more can only be perceived through this dominant narrative.

Watson’s voice is the public dialogue. The voice that raises critical issues and fights for a cause, but frames it in a way they think they can win.

If Emma Watson had given the speech Mia McKenzie wanted her to give, I’m not sure it would be so well praised. It would be, I think, too radical. Even if it would be right.

As it is, those at the outskirts are horrified to hear a woman share her voice at all. Watson gave a powerful speech, written to embrace the middle, written to welcome every self-respecting person to take arms in this fight.

So, perhaps it is reasonable to think that – even if McKenzie is ultimately right – Watson’s tactic is the right approach.

But Eliasoph’s research gives me pause. The activists who she saw play to the dominant narrative lost something in this shift. Their message was blunted, their passion obscure.

Watson certainly had plenty of passion in her speech, but I can’t but help wonder if she took the right approach in framing feminist in terms of men’s self interest. It feels like the right approach, it feels like the tactical approach.

But it sells humanity short.

And I’m not sure that is the right message to share.

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A Facilitator’s Obligation to Social Justice

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I spent my weekend in a facilitation training with an impressive group of people from across my university community.

Over the course of two full days, we were introduced to a specific facilitation method of Reflective / Structured Dialogue.

All of us were there as people. As members of a shared community. As individuals who felt that dialogue is an important groundwork, an important foundation for shared understanding.

And mutual understanding really is the goal of the facilitation technique we studied.

As many in the Deliberative Democracy world have told me, mutual understanding is a critical and foundational goal. People with opposing ideas and opinions may not come to find common ground, they may not come to agree. But well-structured dialogue can help them lower the rhetoric. Can help them humanize each other.

Can help them find mutual understanding.

A common push back to this approach is the question, “is dialogue enough?” For those of us with a bias for action, it can be daunting to imagine having whole series of dialogues organized for no other purpose than to talk.

I mean, I’ve been in many a meeting which seemed to have no point at all, and doing this as a past time doesn’t necessarily seem like an optimal thing to do.

But whether it is “enough” or not, it is clear to me that dialogue is important.

Unlike a meeting that goes off the rails, a well-facilitated dialogue feels like a productive use of time.

You may not plan a boycott or complete a power analysis, but you get to know other people. Really get to know them. As people.

You remember that it’s an amazing experience to be genuinely interested in learning more about someone and to have them genuinely interested in learning more about you.

That can be a powerful experience.

And it’s an important experience. It’s what makes a community a community, and not just a fractured network of factions.

The role of the facilitator in these meetings is intentionally agnostic. They layout a structure, they keep time, they help the group agree to norms and keep the group honest to those norms.

Their role is to serve the interests of the group.

In many ways, this is how we’re used to thinking of a facilitator, and in many ways this structure makes good sense.

When you’re bringing together a polarized group, for example, it seems important that the facilitator be a neutral party, someone who can honestly and equitably enforce the ground rules a group sets for itself. Someone who can generate an unbiased calm and keep the group focused on the seemingly simple task of mutual understanding. Of getting to know each other as people.

And while in theory, that all sounds great, I can’t shake the question: Does a facilitator have an obligation to social justice?

Someone truly committed to the neutral facilitator model would say no. The facilitator has an obligation to the group, to help the group achieve mutual understanding. That understanding will ultimately serve social justice, as people from divergent views learn to humanize each other.

But the facilitator’s primary obligation is to the group, and that requires the facilitator stay neutral.A facilitator might call someone out for not speaking with respect or for not speaking from their own experience, but a neutral facilitator wouldn’t point out the fallacy in someone’s argument or the structural privilege that helped build their view.And in many ways, that seems like the right approach. A well structured dialogue might help someone realize – truly, for themselves – their structural privilege. And that self-realization serves social justice better than any well-intentioned condemnation ever could.But I feel a facilitator’s obligation to social justice goes deeper than this. I think not of polarized groups, but of groups where people’s views are too similar, or where people are too polite.A key step in the Reflective / Structured Dialogue approach is to open with a question that everyone can relate to, that get us all through personal stories, to recognize our common humanity.But recognizing our shared experiences should not lead to an expectation that our experiences are the same.I may have occasionally felt like an outsider. You may have felt like an outsider every day. I may have occasionally felt misrepresented. You may have felt misrepresented every day.Recognizing those common experiences is critical to developing humanized relationships, but social justice means recognizing that a common experience doesn’t imply a comparable existence. It means recognizing that deep systemic inequality, has dramatic outcomes for our different life experiences. It means recognizing that I may able to hide my deviance from social norms, while you may not. And while shared experience is important, the frequency and intensity of those experiences is important, too.I think it’s great to start with a question that everyone can relate to, that opens the door to mutual understanding.But I think a facilitator does have an obligation to social justice and, once commonality is recognized, has an obligation to ask next, how are those experiences different and why are they different? What has shaped our experiences and shaped our world?And, of course, a facilitator must ask, how can we all work together to positively shape the experiences of those who follow ?

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Why you Shouldn’t Give Anonymously (even if it makes you feel like a tool)

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I’ve been reflecting a lot on philanthropy the last few days – as I’ve been posting about organizations whose work is important to me, I’ve also been making donations to each of those organizations. In case you missed it, here are a few great organizations you may want to donate to:

Like many of you, I try to do what I can to improve my communities. I give time and energy, and I also give money.

But that last bit always seems a bit awkward.

You don’t talk about money in polite company, after all.

I mean, there’s something that feels a bit audacious about philanthropy. As if giving money, even to organizations doing important work, is this wildly extravagant thing. And sharing your donation publicly – well, you might as well just admit that you’re really in it for the glory.

Or, at least that’s what I thought before I started working for non-profits.

Initially, I suppose, I thought giving anonymously was more altruistic.

There is of course, a rich philosophical literature about the nature of altruism and whether such a state even exists, but I’ll neglect that debate here, and simply say that my gut instinct told me that anonymous giving was somehow better. Somehow more noble. The route of those who cared about the work more than they cared about their ego.

So I was somewhat taken aback some ten years ago, when I overheard a development colleague comment that he was trying to convince a donor not to give anonymously.

I was surprised.

A Good person would give anonymously. Why would this fundraiser want to degrade that humility?

I was able to stick around for their reasoning – which I didn’t quite buy at the time – and heard him explain that putting a name to the donation would have a positive impact on other donors and prospects. It would increase the fundraising capacity of the organization, and ultimately, provide better support for the work.

To be honest, that sounded like one of those made-up reasons a corporate type might throw out to cover some deeper motive. Or maybe it was one of those things that only applied to rich, egoist types – if your rich, egoist friends see your name in lights, that will compel them to follow suit.

If that was the case, it still all came down to ego – even if you are one of those rare people who is not motivated by public recognition (or can sufficiently hide their glee at praise) – the reason to not give anonymously was so that you could play on the egos of others for the benefit of your organization.

That’s how I wrote it off at the time, but the incident has stuck with me.

And I think about it often as I make my own non-anonymous gifts to the organizations I care about. Of course, it’s entirely possible that I am just an egoist who really is in it for the glory, but on better days I think of it like this -

Supporting organizations doing important work is not some extravagant thing.

Not everyone has the capacity to do so financially, to be sure, but really, most people do. If you’re not trying to decide whether its the gas bill or electric bill to default on, if you’re not skipping meals because you can’t afford food. If you have the ability to buy something without doing the math on just how much that will leave you with -

Then you can afford to do something. Maybe not much, but you can do something.

Not giving anonymously makes me feel like a bit of a tool. It makes me feel like an egoist who is in it for the glory. But I continue to not give anonymously – not because I hope to manipulate other people’s egos, but because I hope to normalize that behavior.

Supporting organizations doing important work is not some extravagant thing.

It’s not for the rich. It’s not for the self-important. It’s for anyone who has the financial breathing room to spare.

So whatever organizations you support, give. Give publicly. Give at whatever level is meaningful to you, and help us all remember – philanthropy is not an extravagance. It’s an expectation.

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Gratitude Challenge, Day 5: Oxfam

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I’ve been called to the gratitude challenge, but rather than follow the rules I’ll be posting each day about an organization whose work I am grateful for.

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I am grateful for the work of Oxfam. You can support this work here if you feel so moved.

One in eight people around the world are undernourished.

An estimated 22,000 children die each day due to poverty.

Of the 2.2 billion children in the world, an estimated 1 billion live in poverty.

That is not okay.

To be perfectly honest, I am most passionate about issues within my geographic community. I get most riled up by systemic injustice and entrenched discrimination within the United States. I put my personal energy towards working to improve the four square miles of Somerville, Massachusetts. And that work feels like an important use of time.

But that doesn’t mean I can just ignore the rest of the world.

For years I did anti-genocide work, particularly advocating to end the genocide in Darfur.

I am all for fruitless yet important labor, but never have my efforts felt so much like banging my head into the wall.

We’d raise awareness, share the stories of Darfuris and hear from Armenians, Jews, Rwandans, and others who had survived genocide. We’d pressure companies to divest and pressure congress to act. My former Congressmen and four of his colleagues were arrested protesting outside the Sudanese embassy.

But nothing ever changed. Not really.

Darfur was just another in a long history of human rights atrocities. An insidious problem from hell that was always surrounded by reasons not to act.

So why do I share this story in a post about the important work of Oxfam?

Well. This might be a little Walter Lippman of me, but I actually don’t think I’m in a position to do the best work on global affairs.

I suppose the work I did on Darfur was important, but if raising awareness is the most I can offer – I suspect there are better ways to do that than organizing events which only reach the same hard core activists who already care.

Not to be self deprecating, but I honestly don’t think I have enough expertise on global politics and international affairs to deeply engage in this work.

In Somerville, I work with small, on-the-ground non-profits. I like organizations where I can dive in and do the work, where I can add some experience and expertise, where my efforts can help them meet their goals.

I just don’t have that capacity when in comes to international work.

That might be one of the many things that makes me a terrible person, but I prefer to think of it like this: international work is just not my calling. It’s not where I can add the most value and it’s not where I should dedicate the majority of my time.

But I damn sure better make sure someone is doing that work.

I am grateful to Oxfam because they address on the ground, dire needs, and advocate for better policy to confront the underlying issues.

I am grateful to Oxfam because they do have the expertise to dive into these issues. To find solutions. To keep up the fight.

I am grateful to Oxfam because when a massive Ebola epidemic threatens many in the world, Oxfam can do something about it, while I can just sigh. And give money.

Just donating sounds kind of crass, perhaps, but sometimes it’s the best thing you can do. I’d gladly leave this work in their capable hands.

Please consider supporting this work.

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Gratitude Challenge, Day 2: The Welcome Project

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I’ve been called to the gratitude challenge, but rather than follow the rules I’ll be posting each day about an organization whose work I am grateful for.

***

I am grateful for the work of The Welcome Project. You can support their work here if you feel so moved.

I serve on the board of this organization which builds the collective power of Somerville immigrants to participate in and shape community decisions.

Someone asked me today why I care about this work, and I found myself rattling off a very practical list of programs.

The Welcome Project offers ESOL classes for adults. They train bilingual high school students as interpreters. They organize a summer “culture camp” which brings together youth from immigrant families to explore their cultural backgrounds.

And all that is just great.

But a list of programs doesn’t capture why I’m grateful for this work.

Much of the work of The Welcome Project has a very practical, skill-building component. Language classes. Interpreter training. These are useful, good things.

But at its heart, the work of The Welcome Project is all about advocacy.

Interpreters increase access at public meetings. Advanced levels of language classes include a social justice component, engaging students in local issues and helping them develop the vocabulary to talk about those issues.

So, yes, on one level, The Welcome Project works to help acclimate immigrants to Somerville, but really, The Welcome Project works to acclimate Somerville to immigrants.

That is to say – everyone living within our community is part of our community.

But that state doesn’t come about on its own. Power structures favor some people over others. Power structures which are deep, long standing, and influenced by a much broader social context.

The only way to change these power structures, to build institutions which are capable of flexibly responding to a shifting citizenry, is to ensure that everyone has a seat at the table.

That everyone’s voice is heard.

That everyone’s voice is understood.

I am grateful for The Welcome Project because they work to ensure that all my neighbors’ voices are heard. That everyone is in a position to speak their mind, influence policy, and engage in the shared work of making our communities better.

I am grateful for The Welcome Project because we can’t have a Good Society without having just society, and we can’t have a just society without everyone passionately involved.

Please consider supporting this work.

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