group dynamics: May 2008 Archives

George Lakoff's important book, Moral Politics, describes the root metaphor at the base of conservative and liberal worldviews. "Cognitive studies," Lakoff explains, have concluded "that moral thinking is imaginative and that it depends fundamentally on metaphorical thinking" (p. 41). The explanatory metaphor for both conservatives and liberals extends a notion of the family/parent to the nation/government. "The resulting moral systems, put together out of the same elements, but in different order, are radically opposed" (p. 35).

One of the interesting challenges of Lakoff's book (i.e., another finding of cognitive science) is the myth of being conscious of one's own worldview, and "that all one has to do to find out about people's views of the world is to ask them" (36). Lakoff describes realizing the myth of transparent belief as "the most fundamental result of cognitive science" (p. 36).

"What people will tell you about their worldview does not necessarily accurately reflect how they reason, how they categorize, how they speak, and how they act" (p. 36).

Lakoff is careful not to tell us what our politics or our morality should be; he is not preaching or giving a prescription. Instead, he is describing the two logics composing the deep split in political thinking between conservatives and liberals in the United States. This is not philosophy; this is description. It is up to us to understand the descriptions and then figure out how to talk and reason based on the reality of these starkly different moralities.

"Our public discourse about the nature of morality and its relation to politics [is] sadly impoverished. We must find a way to talk about alternative moral systems and how they give rise to alternative forms of politics. Journalists - including the most intelligent and insightful of journalists - have been at a loss. They have to rely on existing forms of public discourse, and since those forms are not adequate to the task, even the most thoughtful and honest journalists need help. Public discourse has to be enriched so that the media can do its job better." (2nd edition, 2002, p. 32)

Lakoff goes much further and deeper than merely slapping labels on certain brands of politics. "Classification in itself," writes Lakoff, "is relatively boring" (p. 17). What we need - what Lakoff provides - are models. Models do much more than mere categorization, they

• analyze modes of reasoning
• show how modes of reasoning about different issues fit together
• show how different forms of reasoning are related to each in other in such a way that they are all understood to be instances of the same thing (in this case, politics)
• show links between forms of political reasoning and forms of moral reasoning
• show how moral reasoning in politics is ultimately based on models of the family

Lakoff's hope - and mine in reading his book and trying to understand the basic point - is that by understanding how our minds work, and especially how our words give clues to how our minds work we can address political dilemmas more effectively.

"The same mind that we study for scientific reasons creates moral and political systems of thought and uses them every day. For this reason, the findings of conceptual systems research will eventually come to matter more and more in understanding moral and political life" (p. 17).

We had one heck of a haul from Albuquerque, New Mexico to Shawnee, Kansas. Weather was good, company decent, but it is a long drive. Few other fools were on the road like us - even on Memorial Day weekend. That $4/gallon gas has discouraged the masses. We figure it's still "economical" compared with the purchase of airfare (especially for three) and the convenience of not renting or depending upon others while we're in town. (Not that I'm not doing that anyway! Thanks Kay!)

We headed to Tucumcari and missed it. After getting back on track it was a long, late slog to Liberal, KS but we made it (arrival, 3:30 am, Mountain Standard Time). Few other vehicles were on the road. Mom told stories most of the way: my uncle's buried treasure, my paternal grandfather's mother's dad, Greenwood Blackburn Turner, "who must have been born in this country with Scottish memories," the backstory to my aunt's moving in with us fresh out of high school, many more. Tommy also recounted some of his stories: football prowess, life in the Navy, white boys in the North Carolina mountains, his mom's charity. "God will bless you!"

After spending the night in Liberal, Kansas, we managed to miss Dorothy's House but did see the Rock Island Railroad Bridge, "one of the largest of its kind" according to the AAA Tourbook to Arkansas, Kansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma (2008). We did not go through Goodland, but mom informed me that I've been there before. Apparently we slept overnight there on one of our family drives from Denver to Mt. Carmel, IL. Dad did not enjoy driving across Kansas. It seems his time in the military soured the state. Something recalled to mom's mind taking me to the Eisenhower Museum in Abilene, and she informed Tommy that I used to live within a few blocks of the Truman Museum in Independence, MO. Indeed I did.

We drove through Meade but did not witness evidence of artesian wells. In Haviland, we searched for Lonny's Café (I was tempted by espresso, mom by homemade pie) but had to continue on to Pratt. We ate in a downtown sportsbar, Tommy displaying his sportsmanship despite asserting, "ain't no black people go in there!" Just past Pratt, before Cunningham (?), we saw evidence of a twister.

Not five minutes after stopping to snap photos we heard a tornado watch on the radio. "Wonderful," mom said. We whipped through Wichita, despite its impressive credentials: "For 11,000 years Wichita served as a trading center and meeting place for nomadic people."

Leaving the desert behind, we thoroughly enjoyed the profusion of spring on the plains. Not only did the gently rolling landscape turn an exquisite green, cows dotted the hills and were silhouetted on the horizon. "This sure is pretty," Tommy said, more than once. :-)

Enjoying the pastoral beauty was in stark contrast to the cemeteries we passed with flags a-flying for Memorial Day. "I don't believe in that," Tommy announced after I took a few photos of this large cemetery on the outskirts of Wichita. "I don't either," I said, "but we gotta talk about why we disagree." Tommy, built fit to pummel, is a gentle soul.

Jose was in town for graduation. Yes, that's Dr. Jose.

Several folk did, in fact, gather in his honor. Stories were told, memories recounted, teasing ensued, plans were postulated...

I learned of the first event by hook & by crook, via the grapevine - altering my departure date just so I could see The Man himself. (Actually, I confess, it was a relief to have the extra few days to get myself and the apartment more ready for what's to come.) After receiving my replacement phone, I discovered that he had called, with few specific details and cryptic instructions. Is this what collaboration is going to be like?!?

Meanwhile, I've just finished re-reading Dawn, by Octavia E. Butler. "The twilight before sunrise" seems an apt metaphor for my lifephase.

Humanity, having destroyed earth in a nuclear holocaust, is rescued by an alien species whose life purpose is to acquire and trade genetic material - constantly and consciously morphing into new species. Humans are a fascination to the Oankali because we have "two incompatible characteristics... [Lilith asks] what are they?"

Jdahya made a rustling noise that could have been a sigh, but that did not seem to come from his mouth or throat. "You are intelligent," he said. "That's the newer of the two characteristics, and the one you might have to put to work to save yourselves. You are potentially one of the most intelligent species we've found, though your focus is different from ours. Still, you've a good start in the life sciences, and even in genetics."
"What's the second characteristic?"
"You are hierarchical. That's the older and more entrenched characteristic. We saw it in your closest animal relatives and in your most distant ones. It's a terrestrial characteristic. When human intelligence served it instead of guiding it, when human intelligence did not even acknowledge it as a problem, but took pride in it or did not notice it at all . . ." The rattling sounded again. "That was like ignoring cancer. I think your people did not realize what a dangerous thing they were doing." (p. 39, Lilith's Brood)

Note:
Book Two: Adulthood Rites
Book Three: Imago

. . . dental floss!

Emiko was rough, I'm telling you - give someone a little bit of insight into a weakness and whoosh a professional dental staff (see last paragraph) goes for it all!

I do have the best dentist in the world. "Nice haircut," Tom says, "What's it called?" "Forty-five." Then we cut him loose with the drill. Oh my. Yes yes we had targeted three of the front teeth with ancient fillings, all yellowing out and icky. He expanded to five just cuz he got on a roll. Rebecca was a great help. "We've got to reduce the signs of aging!"

Honest? I am not sure anything I do is going to fool the folks I'm going to meet during upcoming parliamentary adventures: they'll peg me soon enough as from some other social class. (Which one could be an open question!)

I did not get to see it but the stranger on the street corner in Northampton was convinced. "You heard it here first," he hollered after me, grinning. The burst of rain came at the conclusion of the Manchester victory over Chelsea in the Champions Cup - the first international soccer event held at Southpoint this year. More stuff was taken, as the Scissor Ceremony trickles to a close.

I do catch myself making various habitual gestures, but I do not miss it. :-) I do wish I could have been able to be in two places at the same time throughout the party - :-/ - I enjoyed the time spent with people as they sifted through giveaway items and I wanted to be eating, dancing, and carousing with everyone else, too!

The actual cutting was fairly undramatic, no fell swipe, rather a rhythmic, razored progression up the back of my scalp. Commentary from the crowd kept me laughing - thank god I calmed down once I was sitting! Most of the rest of the evening I spent with friends as they selected among giveaway items. Unfortunately, this meant I missed most of the actual party :-/, however I did get to dance with the late-stayers for quite a lengthy turn. I took no blog notes (!); the upcoming photo gallery will have to suffice.

First encounter this morning:

I'm peaceful. No regrets! (Ok, a twinge, I admit, at the fact: now I blend in, I have "conformed" -- as an honest man described the look.)

I'd been aware of the growing relaxation/stress factor over the past month. I've got to learn how to transform the numerator's size so it can keep up when the denominator starts to increase. By Saturday, I was just about too busy with details and planning and riding the momentum of one serious event after another, day in and day out for the past few weeks. Heroes (cough), of course, are not supposed to get casual or careless or otherwise make the kind of clumsy stumbles that sent my cell phone into the washing machine. Not that I rely on text messages as the firmament of my social world or anything like that!

This is it. I recognized the value - the meaningfulness possible as a rescue to a momentary lapse: I shifted into the realm of fantasy. Not only is the future unknown, unpredictable, and uncertain - even its shape has been lifted from perception and any chance of managing it reduced to immediate responsive actions in the here and now.

Shit!

As I told the new roomie, this is classic: a war of good and evil. The team is separated by circumstances, misfortune, bad luck. Actually, the team doesn't even know that its a team! All that's left is do my part and trust that others will do theirs. Do the others know what their part is? In fact, do they even know that they have a part?!

What could I do but keep plugging away at mine? Every few hours I reassembled the drying cell phone. the scroll wheel wouldn't work, so all I would get was the opening screen: "you missed a call." Thanks. I could also see the message count climb: 3, 7, 9, 12. After the party it was even worse: 25! Oh dear :-/

Second Encounter (with a neighbor who I'd invited):

No one could tell I was stressed. Ha. The early arrivals were good sports: "What are we doing, they kept asking. "I'm not sure." A fog of anxiety enveloped me; spreading in ripples...."We've got to make the path." "Dhara will be here in a minute, can you wait?" "Sarbjeet hasn't heard from me in hours!" "But can you wait?" "Oh great, I forgot the markers." "For the arrows?" Heehee - where is it that I'm suggesting people might want to go?! What was I thinking when I conceived this stupendously embarrassing idea?

"Steph, what can I do to help you? You seem a little stressed." Dhara stepped up. Meanwhile, was The Doer of the Deed ever going to arrive?! She got lost. Called me. I didn't answer! What the &*^%? She went to the police. The POLICE! :-) But guess what? She showed up. (Score!)

Third Encounter (another neighbor):

So, I was assured yesterday by Consuela Bananahammock. :-)

This morning, a wish for peace:

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

This was sent by Captain today, as she preps the Peep Hen for our upcoming summer voyage.

Some boats seem to be more seaworthy than others. They survive storms unscathed where others get into serious trouble. Is this just luck? No, it's work.

Every boat has an invisible black box that stores good-luck points. You earn a point every time you check the rigging before setting sail. You earn points for taking a shore bearing after you've anchored. Points pile up when you change the engine oil on time and buy new batteries for the GPS. In short, every seamanlike precaution you take, every little bit of maintenance or checking you do, especially on dark rainy nights when you'd rather be in your bunk, every bit of pre-planning on the chart, earns another point.

In times of stress, when you're caught in a storm and you've done all you physically can, the points are cashed in as protection. You can't control their withdrawal. They withdraw themselves as needed.

Boats that have no points in the black box will later be described as "unlucky" and "unfortunate." But those with points to expend will survive the same conditions. The black box will take care of you. All you need to do is keep it topped up.

Meanwhile, I've just completed interpreting a Commencement Ceremony, those rites of passage intentionally designed to be inspirational at the transition point of an ending/beginning. In the midst of the celebration, a memorial was performed for a student who died this past year. Next I am off to a memorial for a friend who took her own life a few weeks ago. Tomorrow I'll attend a memorial for a professor from my department.

The incredible juxtapositions of life, death, potential, and accomplishment temper the context for my own celebration tomorrow. I aim to achieve much, to be so honored as to touch people's lives in ways that they appreciate. Witnessing the outpourings on behalf of these stellar human beings from those they've left behind is humbling. The bar they set is not one I imagine to actually reach. Nonetheless, proof of possibility motivates purpose.

I was honored to be invited to attend the Distinguished Teacher's Luncheon yesterday as a guest of one of this year's Award winners. I do not know how stimulating the conversation was at other tables, but I believe ours was the best because five of us stayed long after the delectable cheesecake (that even the French would love, and Allison thought was actually ok). Rob commented on my expressive eyebrows and Floyd raked in a surprise award for turning out graduate student Distinguished Teachers two years in a row (Jennie joined us too, she's doing some awesome work now with a project providing computers to schools in Kenya). The other DTA honoree gave an emotion-filled tribute to his students (notably the 18 fourth-graders showing him stringed instrument finger Number Two). Shabnam's devotion to Sumo Wrestling (and, may I add, Grand Theft Auto) played equally well: "sometimes you just have to give students a hook."
(No, she was not nervous.)

I'm not sure how to connect Eduardo's expertise with my interests, but Murray's work (in progress) with owls and squirrels seems metaphorically close (although maybe we shouldn't get too carried away with the food chain part). Human systems are not so linear, but why do I keep suspecting these mathematicians have created some ways with language that might help us address the dynamics of people in groups and societies? Just look at these Willmore surfaces! I know economists have done this somewhat - but everything they do is idealized (isn't it?), assuming rational actors and fixed variables.

I suppose what I have in mind is a fairly simple regression (to start). We had some fun talking about language and interpretation. For instance, Rob brought up this classic from English to Russian:

English:

Russian (back-translated to English):

I was intrigued by this example, which seems (to me) as if it could have been appropriately culturally adapted: that's what makes it funny, isn't it? I can imagine this as the result of an excellent interpretation among real people in real time in an actual circumstance in which the gist of the message is what matters, rather than dismissing it as a limited literal translation. Of course, in most situations these two versions of a desired way to characterize and/or move through a particular point in spacetime would not align, but the thing that a simultaneous interpreter does that is truly unique is factor in all the variables of the specific instance and generate their best sense of how to convey a preferred endgoal.

Wikipedia backs me up that the original story is an amusing, non factual anecdote - but nonetheless characterizes it, unquestionably, as a mistranslation. Blanket judgments like this still rely on a mechanistic view of language, because the premise remains that there is only one accurate translation that could work for all situations and contexts. Instead, suppose that what matters more than the equivalence of word-for-word is the overall shape of the relational trajectory:

In communication theory (in my area, particularly at the interpersonal/intra- and intergroup level in terms of rhetoric, performance, and social interaction) we distinguish between a transmission view of communication and a ritual view of communication. The transmission view can be (loosely) linked with the stability of a particle, while the ritual view focuses more on the energy aspects of communication as a wave. The transmission view is about power (control) "here-and-now" and the ritual view is more concerned with influence and effects over time. These are two aspects of force present in every utterance and also in each pause between utterances. The interesting question then (to ask of your interpreter), is not "did you say what I meant" but "did you say what will accomplish for me the end I seek?" A dicey question, isn't it? - that cuts both ways: interpreters are not psychic and must rely on all of the same cues perceptible to everyone else in the communication situation. Yet interlocutors often speak without a clear end-in-view, instead speaking in order to figure out what it is they mean and determine where exactly they are trying to go.

Certainly I had a grand time! :-) I am lucky to know such wonderfully bright and articulate people.

I woke up to my roomie's status message (facebook), saying he "can't wait to mess up Steph's prospectus defense [today]!"

The Lord of the Skies has already reduced me to tears, I highly recommend this as prep for anyone getting ready to (try to) show some smarts: chicken chicken chicken. (On Saturday, Evil Kachina asked if I'm "smart yet?" Oh dear.)

There are the friends who wish me luck: "Break a leg!" and "Call me after you're finished and before you are drunk."

And those who say, "I will adamantly sit in a chair and listen to you adamantly defend your prospectus."

They're all good. :-)

AIDS prevention: "Live long enough to find the right one."

Linking food production with sustainable harvesting and youth development.

and then there's When Obama Wins.

My friends succeed marvelously at keeping me informed and entertained!

Julia was going to be a part of the combo blog project that's still struggling to get off the ground.

She was brilliant. A math genius and computer programming whiz whose work had caught the attention of some fairly prominent folks. One of her favorite activities during classes seemed to be making fun of me/my interpreting: "I can tell when you understand what you're signing and when you don't!" She was a tease - besides loving to poke fun, there were these moments of pure delight when some mathematical concept would click into my head ("matrices are three-dimensional!") and enable a much more accurate interpretation. Our pleasure in those moments compounded: my glee at getting it, hers at seeing my lightbulb go off, and mutually as the learning process was facilitated.

I've missed working with her this year but continued to enjoy texting. We'd developed a weekly check-in, often to celebrate the end of another work/study week. These messages were light contact, a "hello I'm still here how are you" touch. I was unaware her internal emotional struggles had gotten so incredibly worse. Always there was stuff - she had one of the most difficult lives of anyone I've ever known well. She managed herself and all that stuff with incredible poise. I never realized she was at risk.

Of course I knew it was bad when I got a message from a colleague asking for me to call because she had "some news." As we played phone tag for the next few hours my mind skimmed through the people we knew. I assumed an accident or health issue; I was unprepared for the reality. "Julia took her life."

Ouch.

It's been more than 24 hours since I learned; she died early last week. The initial numbness is wearing off. I keep having flashes of her body, inert.

There's no making sense of such a choice except to respect it. Yes, the timing is rough as we learn new pain was recently added to the old and lingering. Damn, I know I am going to miss her. Yet, long talks with a friend who did her dissertation on the presentation of suicide in the media have changed my level of judgment. I am terribly sad. and...

I recently began re-reading Octavia Butler, Dawn:

My own experience reminds me that pain does keep coming 'round. I think some pain is restorative: necessary to experience in order to shed harmful or adverse effects in the present and future. Most pain is probably palliative, offering temporary relief for an underlying or ongoing dynamic. Some pain is progressive - reinforced by cycles that can be exacerbated by systems/patterns of interaction (with people, with institutions).

From the outside, as it were, one can imagine all the reasons why Julia should have stuck it out. Are they all selfish? Mine are. I want to be teased by her again, to learn with her, for her to be a part of one of my pet projects, for her to open a door for me to other exciting projects that she would have developed or contributed to, for others to get to know her and benefit from her talents. I don't want to feel the pain of her absence, the loss of her friendship, the gaping hole where once she was. It always felt great to get a surprise text message from her in the middle of when&whatever! Now, no more. I am sad.

Julia knew what she was doing. Respecting her decision does not take away my sense of loss, but it is all that I know to do, now, to show my appreciation for her life.