In a previous post, I wrote about the relationship between responsibility and accountability and how each contributes to my understanding of our democracy, our economy, and our education practices. With this blog, I want to revisit the topic, but in much more personal and individual terms: So, picture a 12 year old allowed for the first time to spend the night at a friend’s house. As Mom pulls to the curb to drop me off and I open the car door, I hear: “Remember, you’re responsible for yourself. Make good choices.” Now, picture a 16 year old taking the car out on a Friday night for the first time and driving around friends who were still only 15. My key hits the house door and as it cracks to the outside air, electric with anticipated freedom: “Remember, you’re responsible for yourself. Make good choices.” Finally, picture an 18 year old taking his girlfriend to Senior Prom and with a curfew extension (past 12pm) for this special occasion. Tuxedo on, my Dad’s car key in hand, I make it as far as the sidewalk and hear: “Remember, you’re responsible for yourself. Make good choices.” How many times did I hear this refrain!? Obviously, at 35 it is still in my mind and is the cornerstone of my own sense of personal responsibility. Although as a teen I may have rolled my eyes hearing these words over and over again, I knew what Mom meant, and I knew that she was reminding me of a social contract we had. I got freedom and opportunity as long as I showed that I was responsible enough to handle it. And, I knew I would be held accountable if and when my responsibility lapsed. I also knew why. There was no question and no fight. I knew what was expected of me and I knew when I had failed those expectations. Candidly, with a teenage son, my Mom knew I would screw up. The question was how badly and how would I respond. But, what is critical in all of this is that my Mom’s message framed responsibility as an omnipresent driver of decision-making, and she made clear that almost everything boils down to a decision. Even if I chose to be irresponsible, I knew I was responsible for that choice. I couldn’t blame peer pressure. I couldn’t claim ignorance. Alternatively, it is also important to share what I did not hear from my Mom: “Remember, don’t smoke cigarettes! If I catch you then I will…” “Remember, don’t speed or drive recklessly! If I catch you then I will…” “Remember, don’t drink and don’t have sex! If I catch you then I will…” Mom knew that responsibility taught only in the shadow of accountability (or threat of punishment) lives in a narrow silo of a single cause and a single effect. As an element of decision-making, on the other hand, it can be a lifelong and life-wide skill. We talked about all of these issues (smoking, drinking, etc.) openly and then it was up to me to make the right decision. Most of the time, I did. Sometimes, I didn’t. So, at age 35, I am trying to understand and diagnose my Mom’s ability to instill a sense of responsibility in my siblings and me as teenagers. And, as best I can tell, responsibility only exists relationally with accountability and positive relationships. Try reflecting on your own experiences growing up, or even in your life today: A relationship without responsibility? Responsibility without any sense of accountability? Accountability without a relationship? (My experience says these don’t work.) But what is it that links these elements? What are the connectors? Relationships - Responsibility: These two are connected by effective communication and trust. It is pretty obvious for most of us that a relationship without trust is usually a pretty poor relationship. But, have we thought about how the quality of communication of our expectations, for example, impacts others’ sense of responsibility to us and to themselves? Have we communicated to our young people how valuable and important they are, how much we love them, how much we believe in them, what we expect of them, so that they feel responsible for honoring their own lives and as well as respecting those around them? Do our own actions model the responsibility we seek from them, so that they can trust us? Have we given them the chance to express what they expect from us? Responsibility – Accountability: These two are connected by logic and clarity. If I don’t understand the logic of what I am being held accountable for, I am not likely to feel responsible to it. If I understand it but I really don’t buy the logic behind it (and also am not buying the relationship), I am not likely to feel responsible to it. We must ensure that young people understand the logic behind our accountability and be clear (and repetitive) as to what the accountability is and why. And in doing so, we can help them own a sense of responsibility and accountability to themselves and not just to us. Accountability – Relationships: These two are connected by consistency and unconditional love. Accountability must be consistently and equitably (refer to trust) applied. If I screw up, I should be able to count on those who love me to hold me accountable. I also must know that I can be forgiven and that the love of those around me is unconditional. If I believe love is conditional, then I can be irresponsible all I want, and figure “well, I would have lost it at some point anyway.” If I know love will always be there, I have to make choices knowing I cannot break away from it or set it aside. If love is unconditional then I am unconditionally responsible to/for it. So, this is just a start. I am still seeking to understand and fulfill my responsibilities to myself and those around me. And, like all of us, I’m still trying to make good choices.
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originally posted in 2011
Much has been made recently, and I believe rightfully so, about the current state of American political discourse. And, as many of you who have read my blogs before know, I believe that the language we choose is formative and that it sets the stage for how we live, often even in opposition to our intentions or values. Our language frames, and then we tend to fill out those frames as we act upon the language. Unfortunately, we often use language without clear intention or understanding, which in turn muddles and confuses our processes and our lives, inhibiting our ability to act upon our intentions and generating continual frustration as our actions don’t match our words. With this in mind, I wanted to offer some thoughts about the nature of “discourse” and its function in a democracy. True discourse, I believe, is made up of at least three distinct but not mutually exclusive components: 1. dialogue, 2. debate, and 3. discussion (terms that are often used interchangeably and out of rote repetition rather than any degree of intentionality). Dialogue is about sharing and learning. It is about building understanding and is as much about listening as it is about talking. In genuine dialogue, we are not seeking to be “right” or seeking to “win” but seeking to grow and expand our thoughts. In dialogue, power must be shared equally. Debate is more about competition, but not to the exclusion of learning. In good debate, we hone our skills at presenting and defending our perspectives, but we are also seeking a deeper understanding of our own work through opposing perspectives. In that sense, we are actually dependent on opposing perspectives. Each participant is seeking power through the process of debate and each can gain power through learning whether he wins or loses in the debate. Discussion is about being right and establishing the answer, and as such, it is often about overpowering the opposing perspective. If I listen, it is only to respond. Discussion is prone to diatribe as talking is emphasized over listening. It is more zero-sum than debate and is a natural outgrowth of ideology as opposed to genuine democracy. On the other hand, discussion can also offer a “hard line” when debate and dialogue feel like an endless loop. It can put a pause to process in the interest of making a decision. In our current political state, there is no dialogue; we know (or at least think we know, so we don’t listen anyway) what someone will say before they say it because of the “side of the aisle” they are on. They will say it today and again tomorrow without interest or need to listen to anyone; and on the flip side, we will hear what we want to hear anyway. To demonstrate genuine listening and learning would sadly somehow suggest political weakness. What would we think if we saw a politician have an “ah-hah” moment right there at the mic!? And yet, growth and learning and democracy are built on “ah-ha” moments. In our current political state, there is little debate; there is mic time and TV time in which we reiterate positions and attack those of our opponents. Think about the political “debates” we see on 24 hour news channels. There is no “spirit of competition” in which you respect your opponent enough to compete with them and learn from their perspective. There is no learning. But rather, competition is paired down to a mere matter of who wins, who speaks last and loudest; and as the victor you somehow attain the right to disrespect and minimize the opponent. In our current political state, what we do have a lot of is discussion; pontificating diatribes, self-righteous ideology, and pre-packaged content that does not change or grow or evolve over time. The packaging of our political discussion is too narrow for growth and change and therefore eliminates opportunity for dialogue and debate. By its nature, it must be clear and pre-formed and infinitely recyclable. And, when political discourse is narrowed to mere discussion, we are left with a politics of ideology, a politics based on fundamentalism over learning, of sound-bite peddling over governing, of investing in the “what is” versus working toward the “what could be.” To be clear, ours is not a time of American political discourse but one of American political discussion. True discourse requires dialogue, debate, and discussion and requires that we value, model, and build the skills for each of these with an understanding of the time and place and ethics of each. In our current state of American political discussion, we are modeling a dangerous and narrow version of democracy and of the American political process. As we allow dialogue and debate to atrophy, we should not be surprised as our next generation comes to power when what we are calling the “current state of American political discourse” becomes the defining characteristic of a troubled and confused democracy. Despite its unfortunate end for his team, the month of October had to be somewhat of a dream for Josh Hamilton of the Texas Rangers Major League Baseball team. You see, Hamilton was drafted in 1999 and was considered one of the most promising players in baseball with a future so bright one almost dared not speak it for fear of under-selling or perhaps jinxing it. In 2001, however, after an injury and a car accident, Josh Hamilton spiraled into several years of drug abuse and addiction, moving in and out of baseball and in and out of rehab for the better half of a decade. By 2003, he was out of baseball altogether and his life was in shambles.
This October, at the decade’s end, after the Texas Rangers improbably beat the New York Yankees for the pennant, Hamilton stands as the likely MVP of the entire American League for the 2010 season. And yet, after beating the Yankees, with clarity of his own greater reality, he had to step away from the locker room celebrations knowing that the simple smell of the spewing champagne could be enough to trigger his addiction. He, instead, joined a supportive teammate and went back out to the field to be in a more contemplative space for celebration and reflection. While I was only modestly interested in the subsequent World Series, I felt myself wanting to see Hamilton’s every at-bat, wanting to see him succeed, wanting to continue to find the hope in his incredible story. But, he didn’t succeed and his team didn’t either. They lost to the San Francisco Giants in just 5 games and Hamilton performed rather poorly. Now that the season is over, I reflect with unease knowing that Josh Hamilton, regardless of his baseball comeback and this big “dream” of a story, is a man who wakes up every day and fights to maintain his sobriety. He is a man whose greatest feat, his real success, has little to do with his power to hit the opposing pitcher and everything to do with having the power to control himself and his own addictions. So, what does this have to do with 21st century America? To be clear, it is not about the usual answers. It has nothing to do with this being a country that gives a former “junkie” a second chance. It has nothing to do with the notion that “anything is possible” in this country if you just work hard enough. It has nothing to do with personal redemption or the path of the righteous and/or the chosen. No, Hamilton’s story and his hard work start new every day; there is no path. And, while he worked hard and achieved in baseball what must have seemed impossible in his darkest days, tomorrow starts anew with the same pitfalls and challenges of addiction. Hamilton wasn’t given a second chance; he created it, and re-creates it every day. And while others began the “off-season,” Hamilton had to commit to his sobriety the morning after the World Series just as he did the very first day he got sober. For this reason, I believe Hamilton’s story captures the promise of America in the 21st century. We will not be given our prosperity in this century as some sort of right; we must create it, and re-create it every day. Gone are the days of wielding our inherited gifts and natural resources to impose our will upon entire nations deemed our ideological opponents; these are days to focus our power first on managing ourselves and inspiring others who are also experiencing difficult times. Gone are the days of popping the proverbial champagne and celebrating the inevitability of the great narrative of American possibility; these are days to commit every morning and reflect every evening on writing that great narrative. Gone are the days of hiding our transgressions as a nation, our addictions, our hubris; these are days of transparency, whether we like it or not, and a time for us all to humbly accept our humanity and our position and responsibility in a larger world. This is not about doom and gloom or the end of America. It’s actually the opposite. This is about a new strategy. This is a story about a new approach to life, an approach that acknowledges our addictions, an approach that finds strength in accepting our weakness, an approach that sees such honesty as the most effective way to build the future we want to see. We are a flawed nation, and yet an incredibly strong nation that continues to provide great hope for people around the world. We are a nation that for generations got drunk on our economic superiority and now just needs to sober up and get back to work. I sincerely believe that if we face the 21st century with just a touch of humility and reflection we can continue as a world leader and not confuse this ideal with being a world dominator. Perhaps we can find the strength as a country to live and reflect every day, celebrating our best selves and improving our worst selves, and acknowledging that the presence of both is not a flaw but in fact what it means to be human. An addict, a gifted ball player, an openly flawed human being trying to make it through the next day to rebuild relationships, to build a new and better life, Josh Hamilton may just be the real-life hero we need to look to as together we write the narrative of 21st century America. |
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