Just received e-mail word today that my local coffee emporium, It’s A Grind, is closing, another victim of the downturn although I suspect that its location between Office Depot and Home Depot (both of which are struggling) didn’t help much in terms of traffic. This is the second store shut-down right in my neighborhood (in addition to a few eateries, but I don’t count them as that industry is notoriously unstable in the best of times).
Both the coffee shop and the other store, a gift shop, give me an immediate human face to the effects of billion-dollar greed we’ve been infected by. While the growth-at-any-cost big boys have been defrauding us at the macro level, I feel most acutely the micro-level effect of students losing their part time jobs making coffee and the loss of the shop owner who used to call me when her new candle shipment arrived. I know they are the tip of a very large iceberg that threatens to sink us, but they are the most immediate for me and thus both symbolic and poignant. What’s worse, I don’t know who’s going next.
I suppose I should feel bad for all the stores closing and the jobs losses they represent—particularly the latter. I do, but I also remember a pattern I observed as a child. There was a bicycle shop I used to go to where I grew up. It was a good shop, well stocked, and the owner could repair everything from a broken spindle to flat tires and broken brakes. He was always cheerful and he knew us and our bicycles personally—“Now you’d better stop those wheelies and skidding,” he’d tell the boys, knowing very well that they weren’t about to listen. It was the kind of place you could count on, and that was important to kids who relied on our bikes. It was also the place you could go to dream and, if lucky, choose your Christmas present.
Well, one day the owner decided to open up in a neighboring town. Immediately, things changed. He became consumed with the challenges of operating two shops, and since he couldn’t be in both places it was soon clear how much the shop had relied on his personality. The new manager of the first one didn’t provide the same level of service to us kids and we stopped hanging out. Overnight, it was no longer a place to go and dream. When the owner finally realized that perhaps he should have just focused on what he did best, which was selling and fixing bicycles and working with customers rather than trying to manage multiple stores, he closed the second store. But by then he was so saddled with debt that he nearly lost the first one as well. He was never the same afterwards.
There's a message here, I think, about providing an essential servive and doing it well. When the owner changed from being someone who sold and repaired bicycles into a business man who managed multiple sites, he gave in to an idea of progress. In other words, he got greedy and forgot the essential nature of what he did.
In the scale of things, I am not going to grieve one fewer Macy’s or Zales or Circuit City. Once a business goes corporate it seems to lose its soul. It becomes an opportunity base for a professional cadre of managers whose credo seems to be the bigger I can make the company, the bigger my bonus, then the bigger the rising tide for investors. Well, we’ve seen where that gets us: The company stops focusing on products that people want to buy (cars, for example) and becomes consumed with its stock and investors. When the company shudders, the managers move on until the next carpet-bagger comes along with promises to restore Wall Street confidence. As a consumer, I couldn't care less about Wall Street: I want a car that gives good mileage and doesn't break down. I want someone to focus on me as the bicycle shop did.
My hope is that we’ve learned something from the economic mess around us but my sense of reality is that as long as people are all right personally they will find it convenient to pursue business as usual and just write off the small guys as collateral damage. That’s too bad, because I’m going to miss my local shops.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
What Would They Think of Us?
Sid and I watched the John Adams video from PBS the other day. Paul Giamatti plays the title role as a man of undoubted passion and deep political philosophy but with dubious social skills and absolutely no tact. His self-awareness stops at the boundary of his own reputation, about which he is sensitive to the point of paranoia, even though he seems to understand the limitations of his own personality. “I am not a tactful man,” he admits frequently but without any obvious plan for changing it.
I was struck by several things in this presentation. As with any historical drama, there is always the potential for historical creep—what I call the artistic problem of whether to take historical figures out of their time and judge them by contemporary standards. I had this same problem in writing about Aonio Paleario, a 16th Century Italian academic who was a major character in my novel Every Purpose Under Heaven. I solved my challenge by having it both ways. I have him defend himself in a debate with a modern man who is his equal. The result became a conversation across time, the kind of exchange I would love to have with some of my ancestors, whose folly has visited itself on my life these generations later.
My own curiosity thus leads me to wonder what such a conversation might look like if we were indeed able to go back and somehow talk with the political leaders from three hundred years ago. My take is that once they got over the culture shock of what our technology has produced, I doubt that they would find us very different.
For example, I think they would recognize our sometimes vulgar political infighting. While we may be a bit more restrained than the member of the Continental Congress who called Adams, among other things, a hermaphrodite, currently there is a cartoon circulating on the internet showing open-mouthed public figures (all Democrats) along with Hitler and Bin Laden etc. under the heading of “assholes of the world.” The person who sent it out (Republican) thinks it very amusing. Personal attack appears always to have been part of the American political tradition. There must be something very satisfying about name-calling rather than debating, something in the tradition of the loudest and most offensive voice wins.
Chances are these men from three hundred years ago would also see the endurance of one type of American personality. Many of those who made the treacherous journey to the New World were restless, rebellious, volcanic, and non-conformist—I think here of Tom Payne, who came from Lewes, just a hop-step from where I grew up in England. I doubt these men would have accepted authority if given the chance to resist—and I suspect this type is out living today in a shack in the wilds of Montana armed with enough guns to start WWIII. The American frontier ended only a hundred years or so ago, and once outer space is ready for colonization, I predict that these restless Americans will be among the first to go.
On the other hand, I believe the founders would be shocked at the ignorance and lack of education among many modern Americans despite its availability. Before universal education, only wealthy families could afford tutors for their sons who went to the private universities (Adams went to Harvard); women, even in wealthy families, often went begging (as my grandfather told my mother, he wasn’t going to pay for her education because that was just giving something to another man).
The underlying principle of public education was political, to create educated voters, but the benefits to someone like me who was provided with basic education and state-subsidized higher education are beyond calculation. Our gratitude for this blessing should be everywhere apparent, and yet all too often a strain of American anti-intellectualism clouds over the wonder of knowing who we are and where we come from. I personally find little to admire in the current habit of labeling anything the government supports as “socialism” (i.e. very bad, just like using the term communist back in the fifties) when it is clear that the person using the term has not taken the time eitherto understand its meaning or to recognize that public education is one benefit of government. Parents arguing for lower (i.e. more state funded) tuition might stop to consider that it might be more socialized education they are calling for.
Socialized benefits are all around us and we take them for granted. I think the original thinkers would point out our hypocrisy because the political thought behind the various documents that American’s cling to was the product of 18th Century enlightenment philosophies—which are the most self-aware I know of. So I think our sometimes pride in our own ignorance would appall our ancestors.
I was struck by several things in this presentation. As with any historical drama, there is always the potential for historical creep—what I call the artistic problem of whether to take historical figures out of their time and judge them by contemporary standards. I had this same problem in writing about Aonio Paleario, a 16th Century Italian academic who was a major character in my novel Every Purpose Under Heaven. I solved my challenge by having it both ways. I have him defend himself in a debate with a modern man who is his equal. The result became a conversation across time, the kind of exchange I would love to have with some of my ancestors, whose folly has visited itself on my life these generations later.
My own curiosity thus leads me to wonder what such a conversation might look like if we were indeed able to go back and somehow talk with the political leaders from three hundred years ago. My take is that once they got over the culture shock of what our technology has produced, I doubt that they would find us very different.
For example, I think they would recognize our sometimes vulgar political infighting. While we may be a bit more restrained than the member of the Continental Congress who called Adams, among other things, a hermaphrodite, currently there is a cartoon circulating on the internet showing open-mouthed public figures (all Democrats) along with Hitler and Bin Laden etc. under the heading of “assholes of the world.” The person who sent it out (Republican) thinks it very amusing. Personal attack appears always to have been part of the American political tradition. There must be something very satisfying about name-calling rather than debating, something in the tradition of the loudest and most offensive voice wins.
Chances are these men from three hundred years ago would also see the endurance of one type of American personality. Many of those who made the treacherous journey to the New World were restless, rebellious, volcanic, and non-conformist—I think here of Tom Payne, who came from Lewes, just a hop-step from where I grew up in England. I doubt these men would have accepted authority if given the chance to resist—and I suspect this type is out living today in a shack in the wilds of Montana armed with enough guns to start WWIII. The American frontier ended only a hundred years or so ago, and once outer space is ready for colonization, I predict that these restless Americans will be among the first to go.
On the other hand, I believe the founders would be shocked at the ignorance and lack of education among many modern Americans despite its availability. Before universal education, only wealthy families could afford tutors for their sons who went to the private universities (Adams went to Harvard); women, even in wealthy families, often went begging (as my grandfather told my mother, he wasn’t going to pay for her education because that was just giving something to another man).
The underlying principle of public education was political, to create educated voters, but the benefits to someone like me who was provided with basic education and state-subsidized higher education are beyond calculation. Our gratitude for this blessing should be everywhere apparent, and yet all too often a strain of American anti-intellectualism clouds over the wonder of knowing who we are and where we come from. I personally find little to admire in the current habit of labeling anything the government supports as “socialism” (i.e. very bad, just like using the term communist back in the fifties) when it is clear that the person using the term has not taken the time eitherto understand its meaning or to recognize that public education is one benefit of government. Parents arguing for lower (i.e. more state funded) tuition might stop to consider that it might be more socialized education they are calling for.
Socialized benefits are all around us and we take them for granted. I think the original thinkers would point out our hypocrisy because the political thought behind the various documents that American’s cling to was the product of 18th Century enlightenment philosophies—which are the most self-aware I know of. So I think our sometimes pride in our own ignorance would appall our ancestors.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Broadcast Personalities
Today, Friday February 27, 2009, is the last day of existence for The Rocky Mountain News a newspaper that has served Denver for nearly 150 years. It is the victim of the general move from print to broadcast and internet. Should we lose The Denver Post, Denver will be completely reliant on the sound bites of television and radio, and on the selective reporting of the internet. The final edition delivered to the house this morning provides a time to reflect, I would say, on the passing of one form of media and the potential dangers of what will replace it.
Not many people know that my late husband, Charles, was once a news broadcaster for KHVH Radio in Honolulu. He had the voice for it and approached his profession with the ethical stance of the old time newsman—that is, he approached human events with objectivity and accountability. I have pictures of him with various political and entertainment figures he’d interviewed, whom he’d talk about with varying degrees of respect for their ethics and rapport with the media.
But it wasn’t just the interviewees he evaluated with his keen, analytical mind. He often commented on his fellow broadcasters. He had particular complaint about one of the talk-show hosts on another station. On air, this man was obnoxious, inflammatory, sarcastic, and bombastic. Probably just your garden-variety host. The thing was that we knew him. In person, this fellow was almost bland. But put him behind a mike with a headset for security and he turned into the closest approximation I’ve ever seen of a raving lunatic.
Chuck found this dichotomy more than distasteful—he thought the man unethical and an agitator primarily because he admitted with something of a wink that he didn’t believe what he was spouting. He said it was what people wanted to hear, it gained listener ratings, and attracted sponsors who paid his salary. He accepted no responsibility for what listeners might be stupid enough to do. If people acted on the bile they heard on his show, it was their own fault for not recognizing that he was providing entertainment.
I was reminded of this the other day when I accidentally tuned into FOX and listened for a while. I found it hard to believe that these people are not actors playing their parts and that when the day is done, they go home to some sort of real life. Seen that way, the Howard Sterns and Rush Limbaughs deserve Oscars for their performances as over-the-top commentators. But they’re not the only ones by any means: Lou Dobbs leans that way (although I have less beef with him) and Keith Olbermann as well. When I hear people wanting to nominate these men for president, I shudder. Obviously, many listeners don’t get the entertainment part. They don’t see that these are created personalities who make a very good living by confirming the prejudices of their listeners, for whom they may feel a good bit of contempt.
Peter Sellers, an over-the-top personality himself, was famous for his disguises and personas. From the Goon Show to the movie Being There, he was never the same character. He created personalities galore and the worlds that surrounded them. He was so authentic that one could forget it wasn’t real. Someone once asked him who the real Peter Sellers was. According to his biographer, he resorted to the voices of his various characters and never answered the question. Maybe he had forgotten—maybe he never knew. For him, the personas he created had taken over his life. Perhaps this is the case with the rash of media preachers who spout morality, claim to be surprised by their own humanity, and beg forgiveness from the very people they have whipped up into a frenzy of self-righteous judgment.
Wisdom suggests that we stand back and take a long, hard look at the motivations of the preachers, entertainment/news personalities, and politicians—all those people who create over-the-top personas made possible by broadcast media of various kinds. If we consider that everything is staged for some purpose (usually money), we may become more informed consumers of the “entertainment” they provide us.
Charles used to say sadly that conflict, not news or commentary, sold newspapers. No one buys good news. Hearst papers knew that war would sell, so William Randolph did all he could to create one. In an earlier blog, I argued that corporations are not governments because their self-interest is not the public good. I would say the same thing about the broadcast media and caution people to listen wisely to whom they award their attention. All the minute analysis of politics often presented by people who have only opinions is not designed to inform us but to agitate our prejudices and motivate us to tune in tomorrow.
Not many people know that my late husband, Charles, was once a news broadcaster for KHVH Radio in Honolulu. He had the voice for it and approached his profession with the ethical stance of the old time newsman—that is, he approached human events with objectivity and accountability. I have pictures of him with various political and entertainment figures he’d interviewed, whom he’d talk about with varying degrees of respect for their ethics and rapport with the media.
But it wasn’t just the interviewees he evaluated with his keen, analytical mind. He often commented on his fellow broadcasters. He had particular complaint about one of the talk-show hosts on another station. On air, this man was obnoxious, inflammatory, sarcastic, and bombastic. Probably just your garden-variety host. The thing was that we knew him. In person, this fellow was almost bland. But put him behind a mike with a headset for security and he turned into the closest approximation I’ve ever seen of a raving lunatic.
Chuck found this dichotomy more than distasteful—he thought the man unethical and an agitator primarily because he admitted with something of a wink that he didn’t believe what he was spouting. He said it was what people wanted to hear, it gained listener ratings, and attracted sponsors who paid his salary. He accepted no responsibility for what listeners might be stupid enough to do. If people acted on the bile they heard on his show, it was their own fault for not recognizing that he was providing entertainment.
I was reminded of this the other day when I accidentally tuned into FOX and listened for a while. I found it hard to believe that these people are not actors playing their parts and that when the day is done, they go home to some sort of real life. Seen that way, the Howard Sterns and Rush Limbaughs deserve Oscars for their performances as over-the-top commentators. But they’re not the only ones by any means: Lou Dobbs leans that way (although I have less beef with him) and Keith Olbermann as well. When I hear people wanting to nominate these men for president, I shudder. Obviously, many listeners don’t get the entertainment part. They don’t see that these are created personalities who make a very good living by confirming the prejudices of their listeners, for whom they may feel a good bit of contempt.
Peter Sellers, an over-the-top personality himself, was famous for his disguises and personas. From the Goon Show to the movie Being There, he was never the same character. He created personalities galore and the worlds that surrounded them. He was so authentic that one could forget it wasn’t real. Someone once asked him who the real Peter Sellers was. According to his biographer, he resorted to the voices of his various characters and never answered the question. Maybe he had forgotten—maybe he never knew. For him, the personas he created had taken over his life. Perhaps this is the case with the rash of media preachers who spout morality, claim to be surprised by their own humanity, and beg forgiveness from the very people they have whipped up into a frenzy of self-righteous judgment.
Wisdom suggests that we stand back and take a long, hard look at the motivations of the preachers, entertainment/news personalities, and politicians—all those people who create over-the-top personas made possible by broadcast media of various kinds. If we consider that everything is staged for some purpose (usually money), we may become more informed consumers of the “entertainment” they provide us.
Charles used to say sadly that conflict, not news or commentary, sold newspapers. No one buys good news. Hearst papers knew that war would sell, so William Randolph did all he could to create one. In an earlier blog, I argued that corporations are not governments because their self-interest is not the public good. I would say the same thing about the broadcast media and caution people to listen wisely to whom they award their attention. All the minute analysis of politics often presented by people who have only opinions is not designed to inform us but to agitate our prejudices and motivate us to tune in tomorrow.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I'm Back
Well, my retirement didn't last long, did it? I had reckoned without the world's continuing insanity. Thanks for reading this and as always I welcome and respect your comments. Diana
Fourteen Candles
Fourteen babies—oh my. This is like the movie “Sixteen Candles,” except that those candles all belonged to one person. My brain rings. Fourteen teenage rebellions, fourteen claims of being misunderstood, fourteen college tuitions, and fourteen further claims on the planet—not to mention all the offspring of the original fourteen.
The unmarried mother of six who has just given birth to eight more believes she can support them all and does not consider the food stamps or payments she’s already receiving for some of the older children to be welfare. I suppose we can get into the finer split hairs of what constitutes welfare these days, but in my book it means taking nothing that looks like a regular handout check with a government return address. It’s almost as if she expects to be paid for her services to the nation—an attitude supportable on the American frontier of a hundred years ago and in Canada, which is underpopulated and willing to pay a child allowance, but hardly today with America’s 300 million people and real questions of where to put them.
In parts of the country (like here in Colorado) we wonder where we are going to find the water, let alone clean air, to sustain ourselves. Historically, people have been killed out here in the West over land and water, and scarce resources have led to some of the most Byzantine water laws imaginable (you’re not supposed to collect rain water from your roof because it belongs to the down-stream user). Population growth here means more dams, more court cases over rights, more housing developments spreading like lava over the plains as Denver pours east, and more pollution down the front range as cities extend in one continuous line from Fort Collins in the north to Pueblo in the south.
I know the arguments. The youngest surviving octuplet may be the genius that saves the planet. I wonder if this argument will impress the young man who donated the sperm if he realizes he might one day be nailed for child support if she does go on welfare. I don’t know what California’s laws are like, but here in Colorado fathers who don’t pay up get pursued if the state has to help. All I can say is ouch. He’d better hope that her website generates a lot of donations although mine will not be among them.
In the end I must shake my head. Because of my age, I suppose, I feel for the grandparents who have been providing a roof over her head while babysitting the previous six. How insulted they must have felt when this lady's publicist said that her client shouldn't be blamed for the mess in her parents' home, because she's been in hospital for two months. Translation: it wouldn't have been messy if she had been home. Pullease. I'd hate to think what my house would look like if I was caring for six. It looked like Bedlam when I was caring for only my one grandson.
This mother's choice strikes me as reproductive greed. But why am I surprised? This is only the individual version of what our leaders and business people have done and would continue to do it they could.
The unmarried mother of six who has just given birth to eight more believes she can support them all and does not consider the food stamps or payments she’s already receiving for some of the older children to be welfare. I suppose we can get into the finer split hairs of what constitutes welfare these days, but in my book it means taking nothing that looks like a regular handout check with a government return address. It’s almost as if she expects to be paid for her services to the nation—an attitude supportable on the American frontier of a hundred years ago and in Canada, which is underpopulated and willing to pay a child allowance, but hardly today with America’s 300 million people and real questions of where to put them.
In parts of the country (like here in Colorado) we wonder where we are going to find the water, let alone clean air, to sustain ourselves. Historically, people have been killed out here in the West over land and water, and scarce resources have led to some of the most Byzantine water laws imaginable (you’re not supposed to collect rain water from your roof because it belongs to the down-stream user). Population growth here means more dams, more court cases over rights, more housing developments spreading like lava over the plains as Denver pours east, and more pollution down the front range as cities extend in one continuous line from Fort Collins in the north to Pueblo in the south.
I know the arguments. The youngest surviving octuplet may be the genius that saves the planet. I wonder if this argument will impress the young man who donated the sperm if he realizes he might one day be nailed for child support if she does go on welfare. I don’t know what California’s laws are like, but here in Colorado fathers who don’t pay up get pursued if the state has to help. All I can say is ouch. He’d better hope that her website generates a lot of donations although mine will not be among them.
In the end I must shake my head. Because of my age, I suppose, I feel for the grandparents who have been providing a roof over her head while babysitting the previous six. How insulted they must have felt when this lady's publicist said that her client shouldn't be blamed for the mess in her parents' home, because she's been in hospital for two months. Translation: it wouldn't have been messy if she had been home. Pullease. I'd hate to think what my house would look like if I was caring for six. It looked like Bedlam when I was caring for only my one grandson.
This mother's choice strikes me as reproductive greed. But why am I surprised? This is only the individual version of what our leaders and business people have done and would continue to do it they could.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Helpless Frustration
There are times when I feel a helpless frustration about things happening around me. I felt that way during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina when inept government officials blamed the havoc not on their lack of competence but on the lack of foresight and self-reliance of the people caught in the hurricane. Get on with the relief, I shouted at the television. Worry about the finer philosophical points of responsibility when we aren't watching babies without food, adults without water, and animals dying or being separated from the people who care for them.
I'm a pragmatist. I've never particularly cared about assigning blame in a crisis. Maybe it's my British upbringing--you don't ask why, you just get on with it. But that doesn't stop me from feeling the anguish. I made donations to the Red Cross and the Humane Society for Katrina. That was really all I could do. But I still felt terrible for what was happening.
And now there are the fires in Australia. The area north of Melbourne is prone to them. It's a historical weather pattern. The intense hot winds from the interior desert sweep across the southeastern part of the country, the vegetation dies, and lightning strikes--a deadly combination. But what's happening now is unprecedented. The temperature is hovering around 120F, the winds have been howling, and the fires have spread faster than people can outrun them. Those who tried to fight the fires found the water evaporating as soon as it left the hose. Whoever stayed behind was doomed and the death toll is rising as crews get into the townships.
The most tragic part of all this, though, is that the fires have been deliberately set. This makes me ashamed that I share the planet with whoever did this. There's a $100,000 reward for information on who did it, and I hope they find them before the thousands of families who've lost loved one and homes get to them.
But equally tragic is the terrible loss of the animals. I feel for the our fellow inhabitants because they're not the ones setting the fires yet they pay the price. There's one story of a Koala named Sam who was lucky to be saved by a passing fireman and is now recovering in a wildlife refuge. It's heartwarming until you look at the estimate that 5,000 of Sam's kind have been lost, not to mention all the other creatures. Some say the animal loss will run in the millions.
I sit here in frustration yet again, thousands of miles away but just as anguished as I was over Katrina. I have to wonder what are we doing to our planet and how people can be so insensitive and unkind. As before, all I can do is make a donation to help. I've sent my contribution to the Victoria Wildlife Bush Fire fund. It won't make a huge difference but maybe if a whole bunch of us help, it may add up.
It's going to be very painful if that little koala doesn't make it. I'd like to think that this one life can go on--something like Smokey the Bear, the little bear who was rescued from a forest fire and became the symbol of the US Forest Service. Similarly, I hope that the people who've lost everything can find their own ways to go on. As John Donne said, "No man is an island." I feel their losses too.
I hate to read the newspapers these days. What rotten examples we humans continually prove ourselves to be.
I'm a pragmatist. I've never particularly cared about assigning blame in a crisis. Maybe it's my British upbringing--you don't ask why, you just get on with it. But that doesn't stop me from feeling the anguish. I made donations to the Red Cross and the Humane Society for Katrina. That was really all I could do. But I still felt terrible for what was happening.
And now there are the fires in Australia. The area north of Melbourne is prone to them. It's a historical weather pattern. The intense hot winds from the interior desert sweep across the southeastern part of the country, the vegetation dies, and lightning strikes--a deadly combination. But what's happening now is unprecedented. The temperature is hovering around 120F, the winds have been howling, and the fires have spread faster than people can outrun them. Those who tried to fight the fires found the water evaporating as soon as it left the hose. Whoever stayed behind was doomed and the death toll is rising as crews get into the townships.
The most tragic part of all this, though, is that the fires have been deliberately set. This makes me ashamed that I share the planet with whoever did this. There's a $100,000 reward for information on who did it, and I hope they find them before the thousands of families who've lost loved one and homes get to them.
But equally tragic is the terrible loss of the animals. I feel for the our fellow inhabitants because they're not the ones setting the fires yet they pay the price. There's one story of a Koala named Sam who was lucky to be saved by a passing fireman and is now recovering in a wildlife refuge. It's heartwarming until you look at the estimate that 5,000 of Sam's kind have been lost, not to mention all the other creatures. Some say the animal loss will run in the millions.
I sit here in frustration yet again, thousands of miles away but just as anguished as I was over Katrina. I have to wonder what are we doing to our planet and how people can be so insensitive and unkind. As before, all I can do is make a donation to help. I've sent my contribution to the Victoria Wildlife Bush Fire fund. It won't make a huge difference but maybe if a whole bunch of us help, it may add up.
It's going to be very painful if that little koala doesn't make it. I'd like to think that this one life can go on--something like Smokey the Bear, the little bear who was rescued from a forest fire and became the symbol of the US Forest Service. Similarly, I hope that the people who've lost everything can find their own ways to go on. As John Donne said, "No man is an island." I feel their losses too.
I hate to read the newspapers these days. What rotten examples we humans continually prove ourselves to be.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
What Don't They Get?
As the economy tanks all around the US--and all around the world for that matter—I keep hearing people expressing surprise over how banks and corporations are apparently wasting bail-out money on what is essentially business as usual. I must admit that I don’t get this surprise. What it tells me is people expect corporations and those at the heady tops of CEO office food chains to behave like people. They aren’t and they don’t. In an earlier blog, I talked about how corporations are not governments. Well, they are not human beings either.
Someone applying human rationality to corporate life might expect that the second prime motivation for business decisions (the first one being to make a profit) might be staying in business. The sad fact is that this is a fallacy when a business is worth more to its CEOs if it is dissolved. No one is accountable if a business goes under and as for the CEOs, golden parachutes rob accountability and hefty bonuses undermine ethics. Sure, there are ethical businesses but these are often non-profit and smaller. Once a company goes public, picks up a board composed of other CEOs, and has large enough legal and financial departments to fend of challenges, all bets are off.
I saw this pattern work itself out in a public state university when I was working in the president’s office. Make no mistake about it—a big university will operate just like a corporation and may have a budget as large. The only difference will be the university’s self-righteous dedication to “new knowledge.” In this case, the board of CEOs was composed of governor-appointed regents, many of whom wanted to use the university in the promotion of their own business interests. The president/CEO was tasked to raise money for the university and to keep the faculty and students quiet. The students were actually on the bottom of the pile, trotted out to justify budget increases at the legislature, but otherwise ignored unless they massed on campus in protest. Instruction was always the first thing cut in a budget downturn—and there was always a budget shortage since the university perennially pleaded poverty when it came time to present the budget to the legislature. It was rather cynical as I look back on it. It strikes me just as unethcal as pleading for a handout from the feds and then spending it to send administrators on expensive retreats.
The one axiom I have learned in my cynical way is that if there is a way around a regulation, the brightest will find it and exploit it. If there is a promise of a bonus, somehow, magically, that threshold will be reached. If there are statistics that can be used to cook books, they will be. Consider what I used to tell my writing students: 100% of people born before 1900 ate tomatoes and are now dead. What might account for this? I always caught someone who thought that the tomatoes then might have been poisonous.
The only solution I can see is eternal vigilance and more oversight, not less. I certainly don’t trust my fellow citizens enough to want to repeal all the laws that require us to be civil to one another. Why should I trust my money to entities that build elaborate restrooms for CEOs who don’t get it and who couldn’t care less about me?
Someone applying human rationality to corporate life might expect that the second prime motivation for business decisions (the first one being to make a profit) might be staying in business. The sad fact is that this is a fallacy when a business is worth more to its CEOs if it is dissolved. No one is accountable if a business goes under and as for the CEOs, golden parachutes rob accountability and hefty bonuses undermine ethics. Sure, there are ethical businesses but these are often non-profit and smaller. Once a company goes public, picks up a board composed of other CEOs, and has large enough legal and financial departments to fend of challenges, all bets are off.
I saw this pattern work itself out in a public state university when I was working in the president’s office. Make no mistake about it—a big university will operate just like a corporation and may have a budget as large. The only difference will be the university’s self-righteous dedication to “new knowledge.” In this case, the board of CEOs was composed of governor-appointed regents, many of whom wanted to use the university in the promotion of their own business interests. The president/CEO was tasked to raise money for the university and to keep the faculty and students quiet. The students were actually on the bottom of the pile, trotted out to justify budget increases at the legislature, but otherwise ignored unless they massed on campus in protest. Instruction was always the first thing cut in a budget downturn—and there was always a budget shortage since the university perennially pleaded poverty when it came time to present the budget to the legislature. It was rather cynical as I look back on it. It strikes me just as unethcal as pleading for a handout from the feds and then spending it to send administrators on expensive retreats.
The one axiom I have learned in my cynical way is that if there is a way around a regulation, the brightest will find it and exploit it. If there is a promise of a bonus, somehow, magically, that threshold will be reached. If there are statistics that can be used to cook books, they will be. Consider what I used to tell my writing students: 100% of people born before 1900 ate tomatoes and are now dead. What might account for this? I always caught someone who thought that the tomatoes then might have been poisonous.
The only solution I can see is eternal vigilance and more oversight, not less. I certainly don’t trust my fellow citizens enough to want to repeal all the laws that require us to be civil to one another. Why should I trust my money to entities that build elaborate restrooms for CEOs who don’t get it and who couldn’t care less about me?
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