Month: February 2020

The Dark Side of Discourse

The First Amendment.

If you’re American, you likely learned about this in middle school. You read the following 45 words in all their grandeur, studying them in detail.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Yes, I know. It’s about as riveting as a trip to the motor vehicle office. But the ideal behind these 45 words put a pep in our step.

They allow us to gather together and to have a say. They allow us to find strength in our voice, conviction in our beliefs and an audience in our midst.

Most of all, they allow us to tap into the power of discourse.

I owe my entire professional existence to the First Amendment. I started my career as a TV news journalist, with my rights etched in stone by those 45 words. Now, as a marketer, I facilitate discourse between buyers and sellers.

And I owe Words of the West to the First Amendment. There’s no way I would have been able to publish years of original thoughts without the license to speak freely.

Yes, the First Amendment is a timeless gift. One with the resilience to last through the centuries without losing its luster.

But recently, some warts have started to show.

In Back to The Future, Marty McFly travels back to 1955, thanks to a time-shifting DeLorean invented by the zany scientist Doc Brown.

If I had the keys to that DeLorean, I’d travel back to 1789. I’d head back to the year the first United States Congress stood in session.

This was the laboratory that yielded the first set of amendments to the U.S. Constitution — better known as the Bill of Rights. And front and center in the Bill of Rights is the First Amendment.

If I were to travel back to 1789, I would tell America’s early legislators that some 200 years later, an innovation would arise called the World Wide Web. And that innovation would help billions of people connect on something called the Internet.

I’d likely end up in the stockades for talking like this. After all, it wasn’t too long before this that settlers were burning young women at the stake, simply because someone accused them of being a witch.

But the risk would be worthwhile. For the Internet presents the greatest threat yet to the spirit of the First Amendment.

Free discourse has persevered throughout the generations. It survived a Civil War that left America reeling. It stayed afloat through a great financial depression and two global wars. And it provided the guiding light for the Civil Rights movement.

Even in the darkest moments, discourse tended to call to our better angels. While some truly terrible viewpoints have been shared throughout the years — such as hate speech and violent extremism — the balance of national discourse remained courteous and respectful.

I believe this prosperity of discourse had more to do with logistics than anything else.

In America’s earliest days, a message could only travel as far as the voice could carry. If someone spoke loudly to a gathered crowd, hundreds of people could hear it firsthand.

Members of the crowd could pass those words on to others further afield, but that secondary message would likely get diluted. Only those in the room where it happened got the unvarnished message.

This made it hard for radical discourse to spread. Harmful messages might poison the bucket, but not the entire well.

As time went on, technology chipped away at these limitations. Newspapers, radio frequencies and TV channels helped spread that firsthand message further and faster.

Yet, these new technology options came with their own limitations. Not just anyone could write for a newspaper or get airtime on the radio or TV. There were gatekeepers — such as editors and programming directors — controlling access and managing the message on each medium.

So, those who sought to use discourse to drag down society found their plans foiled. For every instance of a televised Klan rally, there was an image of Martin Luther King on the Lincoln Memorial steps, proclaiming I have a dream today.  For every demand of an extremist to publish their manifesto, there was John F. Kennedy imploring America to go to the moon.

But now, things are different.

The Internet age is here. And the guardrails are gone.

The veil has been lifted.

Often, this phrase is a joyous one. Sadly, that’s not the case this time.

For the veil the Internet age has lifted was an essential protection. It was the buffer shielding us from the dark side of discourse.

Now, in a world with open access to a megaphone, we are seeing just how sinister that dark side can be.

Malicious discourse is no longer solely the domain of torchlit rallies in the backwoods. It’s no longer the specialty of radicalized criminals racking up collateral damage.

Instead, it’s in the hands of anyone with a smartphone.

A healthy respect for diverging viewpoints has gone by the wayside. Bullying and intimidation are rampant.

Those at the helm of these malicious campaigns run the gamut. They’re everything from middle schoolers to the middle age. They range from the far right to the far left. They represent the downtrodden everyman and the down-looking elite alike.

The expressions of vitriol they spew are no longer reserved for the masses. Like heat-seeking missiles, they can each be fixed upon a single target. One person. One family. One organization.

And the fallout from this prevailing brand of discourse has been brutal. Many have seen their dreams shattered. Many have had their livelihoods subverted. And some have even gone so far as to take their own lives.

This surely wasn’t the dystopian future America’s early legislators envisioned when they bestowed us with the power to speak freely.

Yet, it’s precisely the world in which we find ourselves.

It’s going to be difficult for us to find our way out of this sinkhole.

For as long as there is an open Internet full of popular social networking platforms, there will be cyberbullying. There will be those who launch digital grenades at others under the guise of an alias. There will be those who poison our discourse with little fear of repercussion.

This reality is bleak. But it is not hopeless.

We do have some control of our destiny. And that process starts with us putting our foot down and making our voices heard.

We can begin by letting those around us know that we won’t tolerate rancorous malice. That we won’t sit silent when other use the Internet to turn words into weapons.

We can continue by leading by example. By avoiding the temptation to use our First Amendment rights to make others feel pain — even if we feel it’s justified.

And we can take it to the next level by standing with the victims. By providing them the strength needed to sidestep the harm malicious discourse can bring.

These are only first steps. A first phase in a much larger crusade.

But they are steps in the right direction.

The First Amendment gave our society a great opportunity. Let’s make the most of it once again.

The Power of Inertia

I’m in over my head.

The thought flashed through my mind, over and over, as I stood nervously on the edge of a ski run.

To the left of me was the gentle meandering trail that had gotten me here. On my map, this trail was marked green, which meant it was for beginner skiers.

Straight ahead of me was a steeper trail I had not taken. That trail was marked blue on the map, for intermediate skiers.

And to the right of me was the remainder of the run, an unrelenting slope down to the lodge, some 50 feet below. It was marked blue on the map, but the skiers on the green trail would have to take it to make it back to base.

I was not ready for what was to come. This was only my second time skiing, and I’d never taken a lesson. Plus, the sun had gone down and much of the trail had turned from powdery snow into an icy slush.

I knew that if I wasn’t careful, I could get badly injured. Yet, it would be nearly impossible to be careful while streaking down a slick slope under the black skies of a winter night.

So I stood off to the side with my skis perpendicular to the incline and my ski poles anchored into the snow. Then, I waited. And waited. And waited.

Eventually, I mustered up the courage to continue. I turned my skis to the right and began the harrowing journey down the slope.

At first, the task seemed manageable. I was zigging and zagging across the hill with precision. But as I picked up speed, my turns got wider and wider. And control quickly became an illusion.

I somehow managed to stay upright the entire way down the hill. But once I reached the bottom, I realized I had a new problem — I couldn’t stop.

I tried every technique I could to pull up. Nothing seemed to work.

I bounded around the traffic in front of me, nearly taking out a family waiting in line for a chair lift. I was quickly running out of real estate, and gripped with helplessness.

Finally, just before I reached the parking lot, I was able to slow to a stop.

My skis were at a standstill once again. But my heart was beating furiously.

I had survived.

Often times, my thoughts on this forum have a predictable pattern. One that goes something like this:

  • Point out a behavior
  • State why it’s a problem
  • Encourage everyone to stop doing it
  • Ask everyone to try something different instead

It’s a familiar formula. One used by philosophers, authors, teachers and behavioral scientists for centuries to evoke change.

Yet, this narrative pattern glosses over a significant factor. It fails to account for inertia.

Inertia is a critical component of change. One we must contend with when speeding up, slowing down or shifting course.

This force that causes friction in the face of change. It makes it hard to alter our speed or direction on a dime. We need space and resistance to counteract its force. And we need resistance to chart ourselves a different path.

I saw the power of inertia firsthand on my ski misadventure. And I’ve notice it every time a plane I’m flying on touches down on the runway. Those few moments before we reach full-stop are the most harrowing of the entire journey.

Why do we fail to factor such a critical component into our thinking and behavior? Why do we perpetuate the myth of the quick change.

Are we willful? Brash? Petulant?

Well, yes. But that’s only part of the story.

I want off this ride.

Just about all of us have had this thought from time to time.

For whether we’re a daredevil or a scaredy cat, we’ve likely had that moment where our stomach tied in knots and the room started to spin.

That feeling has seemed particularly pronounced in recent years. As society has become splintered by divisiveness, a tidal wave of angst has consumed a great many of us.

We don’t want the status quo to continue. We want a kinder, gentler reality.

So, we propose ever more radical solutions for the issues we see. We get ever more ambitious with the scope of these demands.

Our emotions are driving the show. After all, we are pained by our current quandary. And we feel compelled to find the fastest source of relief.

But while our hearts seek a quick shift, our minds should know better.

We should know that it takes some time to grind our present actions to a halt, and that it takes time to chart a course for our future ones. We should know that old habits die hard, and that new ones are hard to break in.

And because of this, we should know that change is often incremental, not disruptive.

We should know all this. But we’d rather act as if we don’t know any of it.

For that narrative is too drawn out. It’s too slow and plodding for our fast-twitch, instant gratification world.

We want off this ride now. Consequences be damned.

It would seem that our yearning for radical change is a problem. A problem that needs to be stopped in its tracks.

But by framing the issue this way, we risk falling into a trap.

For ultimately, we can’t stop anything in its tracks. That’s not how we resist inertia.

We must work toward the change we seek. Gradually, methodically and persistently.

Then, and only then, can we shift course the way the laws of nature intended. Then, and only then, can we reach our desired destination in a manner that minimizes damage.

This is a long-term gain that’s worth the short-term pain.

Indeed, in essence, that pain is just part of the process.

So, let us not stop those unsavory behaviors or actions we seek to purge. And let us not immediately enact their replacements.

Instead, let us continue.

Let us continue moving from the problems we encounter now toward the solutions that we see ahead. Let us continue challenging the status quo in hopes of a more idealized reality. And let us continue working to build a brighter future, brick by brick and day by day.

Inertia is ever powerful, and ever present. It’s best if we use it to our advantage.

Hackbuster

Not long ago, I stumbled upon a strange article on the Internet.

The title read: Dopamine Fasting Is Silicon Valley’s Hot New Trend.

Normally, the words Hot New Trend would repel me like pepper spray. I’m not on the cutting edge, and am not looking to hang out with the cool kids.

Yet, I found myself compelled to click on this particular article. For something in the title just didn’t add up.

After all, dopamine is a central part of our existence. The neurotransmitter evokes feelings of pleasure throughout our bodies. That sensation can be found when we complete that big work project, when our favorite team wins a big game— or when we’re scrolling through the social media feeds on our smartphone.

Why would tech executives — the stewards of such dopamine-inducing platforms as social networks and smartphones — refuse to eat their own dog food? Why would they subject themselves to prolonged periods of masochistic misery?

It only took me five short paragraphs to find out.

It turns out the hoodie-clad overlords of Silicon Valley are adopting dopamine fasting as a health hack. They’re using it to recalibrate their bodies to meet target metrics. And they’re equating the act of hitting their numbers to having optimal health.

Health hacks like these are often billed as course corrections. They’re often considered a rapid regression to the mean.

But in essence, they’re shortcuts. They’re the fast lane to a desirable destination.

This is why even the most counterintuitive hacks — like denying oneself any sources of pleasure —can spread like wildfire. The promise of a craveable outcome and the pull of social pressure can make these hacks appear to be sensible options.

Yet, all too often, appearances can be deceiving.

I am not a fan of hacks.

I never have been. And I probably never will be.

I don’t feel this way because of anything the hacks themselves contain. Sure, they might seem absurd at times. But that absurdity amuses me.

No, my issue with hacks comes from their underlying premise.

Hacks find their greatest power at the intersection of impatience and snobbishness. For their doting audiences seek both instant gratification and elite status.

With hacks, it’s not enough to simply to get an advantage. It’s essential to have an edge that others don’t.

While everyone else is stuck in neutral, we’re going full speed ahead. While everyone else is fighting the same old battles, we’re above the fray.

This thinking is as much about exclusivity as it is efficiency. And this perspective eats at me.

Why must a hack be Zero Sum? Why does it matter what information others have access to? And why should we consider ourselves to be better than others — simply on the merits of achieving something more optimally?

There really is no good answer.

I believe in  incrementalism.

Like a ship headed for the horizon, I feel progress is best made one inch at a time.

This is not an exciting viewpoint. But it is a well-practiced one.

According to the Diffusion of Innovation Curve, most people don’t rush toward exciting products as they’re launched. Instead, they wait for others to take the leap along with them.

Moving ahead at the speed of the masses is incrementalism at its finest. And by and large, this theory has helped us evolve over the millennia.

Even so, we crave something more than putting one foot in front of the other.

We don’t merely want to walk. We want to soar.

And so, we find ourselves entranced by flash. We seek out the boldest, brightest and loudest concepts. And we throw the full weight of our aspirations at them.

These actions run contrary to our cautious nature. But they provide us what our heart yearns for.

Of course, a proof of concept can ease this shift from incrementalism to disruption. And our society is full of such examples.

Perhaps the oldest of these is the very foundation of the United States of America. While we might take the concept of a self-ruling democracy for granted these days, it was relatively nascent in 1776. And the idea of splitting from a presiding kingdom was downright unheard of.

America’s success in both declaring and defending its independence was a shock to the system. It was an early case of disruptive innovation.

Many other disruptions have followed in the subsequent centuries. Many of these disruptions — such as the Model T automobile and the personal computer  — grew from self-serving roots to gain widespread adoption.

This pattern has helped grow our sense of individualism. It’s caused us to think of our own short-term needs, in lieu of the longer-term implications for society.

In the cases of America, the automobile or the computer, the desirable short-term advantages we’ve enjoyed haven’t been overshadowed by undesirable long-term effects. But in many other situations, a less optimal scenario has come to bear.

This is a critical point, because hacks tend to thrive under the guise of disruption. They promise us short-term benefits and shrug off the long-term view entirely.

This perspective may seem desirable to us in the moment. But over the long haul, it’s extremely dangerous.

 

Don’t build on shaky ground.

This proverb is as prescient as it is straightforward. For centuries, settlers — perhaps excluding some in California — have taken it as gospel.

A solid foundation means everything. Our homes, our families, our lives — they all depend on stability.

We don’t gain this stability by rocking the boat. By making big waves and leaving others in our wake.

We gain it by working meticulously, methodically and collectively.

I truly believe that the greatest achievements in life are not the result of short-term, selfish thinking. They are the result of long-term, selfless action.

When we aim for immediate personal satisfaction, we only set ourselves up for future disappointment. But when we work together toward a common objective, we have the potential to lift up all of society.

This work might not be glamorous. It might not be hair-raising or pulse-quickening.

But it can bring a lasting satisfaction.

And that is something no hack could ever match.

On Negotiation

Winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.

Surely, you’ve heard this phrase before.

After all, it seems to be the ethos of life.

Our culture is captivated by winning. We’re entranced by it. And we’re obsessed with it.

Whether we’re backing down defenders in a pickup basketball game or gunning for that prime parking spot outside the grocery store, coming in first is all that matters.

This fixation gives us an edge. It can provide us the impetus to drive ourselves to greatness.

But that edge cuts both ways.

Much of our lives involve negotiation. Negotiation is the process of giving something up to get something in return.

It all sounds a bit cold and transactional. But that’s precisely the point.

For life is full of conflicting interests.

Sometimes all parties involved are going after the same resource — like the last croissant on the breakfast spread. Other times, their objectives might be different than ours — as is the case during a salary deliberation.

In either case, trade-offs are essential to finding a productive middle ground. And trade-offs get hashed out through negotiation.

The art of negotiation is an increasingly important concept. One that has come to govern the world in recent generations.

This is the case because of the rise of economics. Adam Smith published The Wealth of Nations in 1776. In the centuries since then, economists have come to view societies as markets constrained by scarce resources.

In plain English, this means that modern economics is based upon the concept of trade-offs. On giving up something to get something else.

By nature, these trade-offs necessitate negotiation— between owners and employees, between government and its constituents and between nations themselves. And so, these discussions have become a hallmark of our society.

Yes, it’s hard to get too much done without negotiation these days.

So, why are we so terrible at it?

You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, well, you just might find you get what you need.

These lines come from an eponymous 1969 Rolling Stones song. While the full set of lyrics from this song carry an ironic tone, the message from these lines rings true.

Or at least it used to.

My first memory was listening to this song in the back of my parents’ car. Nearly two decades had passed since it first hit the airwaves at that point, and I was too young to know what the words meant. But I distinctly remember hearing them.

Not long after that moment, the Berlin Wall fell — and with it, the Iron Curtain. Apartheid was abolished in South Africa. A military dictatorship ended in Chile. New trade agreements appeared between the United States, Canada and Mexico.

The world was evolving at a breakneck pace. And for the most part, it was doing so peacefully.

This was an extraordinary development after decades of divisiveness and armed conflict. And it spoke to the power of negotiation.

In most of these cases, representatives didn’t gather around a table to hash out their differences. But they still engaged in a series of significant trade-offs.

It was a great moment for the principle of negotiation. But that moment has faded.

Today, the world looks much different. Our perspectives are colored by the long shadows of the 9/11 terrorist attacks and the global financial crisis. Trust is waning.

Meanwhile, the rapid rise of technology behemoths like Facebook and Twitter — both founded by college dropouts — has conveyed the message that the old rules don’t apply. That you can get what you want and what you feel you need. All without compromising along the way.

Negotiations these days no longer seem like trade-offs. They’re standoffs.

This is a full-fledged breakdown of an essential skill.

And while this breakdown is not solely responsible for the divisiveness of our society, it’s certainly helping to fan the flames.

Many people view negotiation as a Battle Royale these days. As a test of mettle or resolve.

I’m not one of them.

Instead, my negotiating philosophy is straightforward.

  1. Help others get what they want.
  2. Accomplish this without causing myself irreparable harm.

If I can achieve these objectives, I move forward. If I can’t, I walk away.

Yet, I rarely find myself abandoning the negotiation.

There’s a simple reason for this. It draws from my first principle of negotiation.

By looking to help others first, I flip the script. I approach the deliberation asking What can I give? instead of What can I get?

This tends to have a bit of a disarming effect on the people I’m negotiating with. Instead of declaring a competing objective, I’m offering to help them achieve theirs.

My negotiation partners are often eager to accept my assistance. Doing so can mark a significant victory for them and their objectives. Plus, in a moment where tensions are heightened, it provides them a path of least resistance.

But invariably, their conscience will get the better of them. Whether under the guise of fairness, respect or politeness, the satisfied negotiation partner will ask me what I am looking for out of the deliberation. And when I state my objectives, they often feel an obligation to help me achieve them.

This is the ideal way my negotiations play out. But in practice, it doesn’t always go like this.

Indeed, there are some who go into a negotiation looking for a free ride. There are some who see my accommodation as an invitation for their indulgence.

This is why I have the second principle in place. It’s why I have the fortitude to draw a line in the sand and the gumption to give up on the proceedings altogether if need be.

When push comes to shove, I will protect myself with all my might.

But I treat that situation as a possibility, not an inevitability.

Winning matters. It’s been this way for centuries, and will likely be this way for centuries to come.

But the way we perceive winning can evolve. And indeed it must.

Our world is more connected than ever before. That means we must work together more often.

There is no room for winner-take-all. Our patience for zero-sum standoffs is waning.

It’s time for us to approach negotiation with an infinite mindset. It’s time for us to focus on what we can give over what we stand to get. It’s time for us to consider what we can achieve together.

That is where true power lies. And that is what winning is all about.