From international politics to marital détentes, corporate failures to personal traps, what was once true can have incredible power over what may be possible next.
Three recent examples have crystallized this notion in my mind. First, the hyperventilation surrounding US electoral politics. Second, a business’s struggle to rise from a years’ long quagmire of disappointing results. Third, a heartbreaking admission from a long-married friend.
I am not an expert in any of these arenas. Would never claim to be. Rather, I am someone who has listened since childhood to what people say, how they say it, and how they hope I either do not notice or compassionately excuse the lies they tell themselves. And me.
What is currently blowing my mind is how complicit we are in creating our own miseries! We feel trapped. We don’t want to upset whatever uneasy peace currently exists. We don’t want to be considered crazy. And we surely don’t want to create worse circumstances than those we are currently managing.
This is madness.
We all know it. We all wish it were different. Yet, for reasons specific to each situation, we find stories to keep ourselves stuck. And somehow virtuous in being so.
As I consider how to position my observations, and maybe an argument for sanity, I recognize and fully appreciate my limited perspective. As we humans so expertly do in the absence of certain information, we fill in the blanks with what we know from experience. I admit to doing this. And, because it irritates me greatly when I see and hear others doing it, I like to believe I have developed the ability to keep this fill-in-the-blanks “wisdom” to myself while I continue to ask questions that enlarge my understanding. I may be delusional.
Let’s start with American electoral angst. We have two aged men vying to be the leader of the greatest nation on earth, the leader of the free world. Yes, I realize this depiction of my country is hotly debated. I grew up in the 60s when the same debate raged. In some respects, it’s déjà vu.
That aside, depending upon the stories you have heard and bought, one of these men is the lesser of two evils at a time when the nation is starving for a representative who can be stronger, more virtuous, more collaborative, and wiser to the ways of the wicked world. For individual voters, family political affinities create stories that require loyalty. Paid political entities create stories they repeat with faithful persistence. Media moguls create stories that fill their coffers. Every one of these stories comes from people or groups of people just like you and me. Not in their political affinity but in their human compliance to systems. More on this in a bit.
My point here: Stories.
Heard often enough, the biggest lie becomes truth. Or so it has been said many times, often attributed to Lenin. But even the source and meaning of such a well-accepted dictum is disputed, usually by those who yearn to be smarter than the average bear—certainly than you and me—and recorded as such for prosperity, usually online. Oh, what tangled webs…
Stories engage emotion. Emotion disengages reason. Not always, but often. Maybe usually. The deeper the emotion stirred by the story, the less likely reason stands a chance of survival.
This is a hard truth to appreciate and accept. We can certainly see that other people do this, but not us! We have strong, consistent and verifiable evidence for our position. And damn it, we’re sticking to it. Problem is, this evidence is limited. Our knowledge and experience are always limited. Always and never are words we would be wise to avoid, but in this case, always fits. We are limited. Period.
Let’s go on to business. Why do companies continue to lose money, retain poor, even noxious, employees and put off difficult decisions? There are many stories. “This is a blip; next year will be better.” “We can’t let Person X go, he/she is a rainmaker!” “I can’t bring this up to the Board, they wouldn’t understand.” “When results suck, facts sound like excuses.” “My kids are in college. I can’t sacrifice my income.”
The variations on this theme are as endless as the DNA code. And just as deeply embedded. Each story is unique to its teller and the audience it seeks to convince. And every one lives in the heart of a conflicted, well-intentioned, and trapped human. This specific misery has led wealthy people to leap to their deaths, create double lives, and do otherwise seemingly irrational things. But when you are living the story, it is all too real.
Finally, consider the intimacy of personal relationships. While intimate, they are rarely entirely private. Stories get created and spun for broader consumption. Sometimes these stories are mostly true—nobody is perfect, after all—but sometimes they are far from the truth. Take a gander at social media. The genesis of these stories is as unlimited as the variations just discussed. We all have our reasons.
Storylines are powerful. When delivered with conviction, consistency, and a measure of compassion for audiences, they move people.
So in looking to the future, most of us search the past for clues. Those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it, we are told. I guess the cycles of frail humanity have compiled enough evidence to make this true, yet nothing is the same today as it was yesterday. It is older and maybe wiser, but maybe more foolish because circumstances have morphed. Just as our reaction in a moment of dismay changes with time and greater understanding of ourselves and the context within which the moment happened, so too life’s events generate impulsive responses, which may soften over time.
What, then, do we make of so many stories told breathlessly by messengers who seek to assert their dominance? How do we sort wheat from chaff blowing about in the informational winds? Whose is the voice of reason and who’s the voice of the court jester? Is it possible for young savant-like pronouncers to speak wisdom? Out of the mouths of babes and all that.
Handsome and beautiful messengers tend to gain favor with audiences. They are pleasant to look at, after all, and seem so nice. They look and sound friendly. Surely, they do not carry sharp blades beneath their cuffs? Surely, they would not tell lies as they smile in reassurance? Surely, they were raised to be honest?
These ‘surely’ questions point to our expectations, generally formed in childhood. But each of us learned different messages, even if we grew up together in the same household. This is part of the mystery of being human and it is a thing of beauty and wonder as far as it goes. But when it leads one to perpetual naivete and unfounded trust, it becomes dangerous.
And when the messages we learned are at odds with the ones someone else learned, what then? And when that person has a platform we do not, what then?
What then is what we have now. Contention. Disregard for other points of view. Ridicule and mockery from those who feel superior and untouchable, ensconced within systems.
Systems that demand compliance as they seek self-perpetuation. Systems in which rules are sacrosanct, questions verboten, and adherence to the script brings rewards.
When a system has proven successful in the past, any attempt to improve it is unwelcome and sometimes actively squelched. Rogue actors must be brought into compliance or disgorged from the system.
Hold on.
Systems do none of these things. People within systems do these things. And these people have stories. They have their reasons for why they do what they do. Perhaps they were shaped so successfully by the system that the system represents safety. Status. Success. Perhaps they are controlling, twisted, and evil. Who’s to say? We form opinions, though, don’t we? When we hear the same stories over and over, regardless of their veracity, we tend to shrug and accept them. Thus the power of the system.
But wait.
See the one who dares to ask what is possible in the midst of such angst. Martin Luther King, Jr. had a dream. So did Robert F. Kennedy when he remarked, “Some men see things as they are and ask why. I dream things that never were and ask why not.” Were these men delusional rabble rousers, only looking to make a name for themselves?
Or were they perhaps individuals who had seen much, understood even more, and refused to accept the messages and messengers of their time who insisted that our only future was the one their betters could create?
We know what happened. Their voices were threats to power. Their questions were cast as accusations, their curiosity as dangerous intent. Their encouragement to act was cast as violent insubordination. They were destroyed.
Maybe history does repeat itself.
Still, there are dreamers among us, even now. Rather than fear and seek to destroy them, we would be wise to stand alongside them, listen to their words, and try to see what they see. We can choose to support the visions they describe or continue on the path we currently walk. This choice is what makes life a grand adventure.
Precedent and power structures can certainly shape messages. When these messages confuse the present and distort the possibilities of what’s next, they deserve scrutiny. For all who will own their frailty, accept their missteps and dare to question, it’s good to stand tall. Important to expose traps and challenge stories through honest questions. Courageous to refuse categorization and dismissal. Imperative to recognize that no circumstances are worse than the ones that paralyze and destroy the human spirit.
