When I was a little boy, there was a “Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild”. I would pray to him every night and ask him to look after my Mum and my Dad, the dogs and the cats, our cows, our pigs and our chickens-- each animal by name.
In Sunday School I learned of a Jesus who loved the little children and spoke out against those who would do them harm. He healed the sick and comforted the sorrowing. He said to love your enemies and to do good to those who despitefully use you. Those were his exact words.
He taught us that God’s things were God’s things and Caesar’s things were Caesar's things, and they were not to be confused.
He became angry on the rarest of occasions, once when a mob of clergymen tried to kill a prostitute and another time when the clergy and the merchants made common cause to commercialize the Temple.
Our Sunday School room and our story books had lots of pictures of a strong, kindly Jesus, preaching on the mountainside, surrounded by little children, bearded men in long robes, and women with head-coverings. They looked quite Middle Eastern, but when I was a little boy that was OK.
He never reproached. He suffered insults and beatings without a whimper, and ultimately gave his life to reconcile a wicked world to a righteous God.
That was the Jesus of my childhood, the Jesus Who Used to Be. But he’s a thing of the past.
There’s a new Jesus in town, and he’s a very different guy. He’s hard-eyed and square-jawed and he packs a gun, even in church. Nobody’s going to mess with him-- no more of this weak “turn the other cheek” nonsense, the kind of talk that could get you crucified. And certainly no more hanging around with Middle Easterners, unless they’ve got lots of money.
The new Jesus takes firm action and he gets things done. He stands strong against the kind of people he doesn’t like-- people who were born in the wrong country or with the wrong orientation. They can just go to Hell, and it would serve them right.
But he’s also toned down many of the finicky old rules about stuff like adultery and lying and stealing and abusing the poor. Even torture and warmongering are OK so long as we’re clear about who the bad guys are.
But not all the rules are gone. While he might give adultery a mulligan, the new Jesus is pretty clear about the truly unacceptable. Like abortion and homosexuality. And bad words, especially the F-word. After all, there need to be some things to separate the good guys from the bad guys.
The new Jesus may have anger-management issues, but they’re certainly not directed toward the clergy, who seem to be prospering pretty nicely, thank you very much. I’m guessing they’ve got a deal worked out. This is the Age of the Deal, after all.
But while we’re waiting for the new Jesus to whip the world into shape, I still remember fondly the Jesus Who Used to Be, the one who helped me try to be a better little boy, to not lie to my parents, and to share my lunch.
“Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” -- The Jesus Who Used to Be
Norman Bowley writes, speaks and teaches about leadership, communication, decision-making, and occasionally about things that break his heart.
“Grandfathering” is a much-cherished legal concept, and a good one at that. The notion is that an individual’s longstanding right or privilege may be allowed to continue notwithstanding new rules which apply to everyone else. Thus if a new by-law requires all new houses to be built of brick, it will likely grandfather all the existing wooden houses.
But the origins of the expression were much more sinister and had to do with voter suppression. After the American Civil War and the subsequent failure of Reconstruction, many of the former Confederate states introduced voter-suppression laws in the guise of voter qualification.
Every voter for local, state or federal elections was required to register and demonstrate that he (yes, “he”) was qualified. This typically took the form of extremely difficult mathematical or linguistic tests that you and I would likely fail, including accurately guessing the number of marbles in a large jar. Fortunately for most white males, except possibly for “white trash”, there was an exemption if your grandfather had voted in such elections. Virtually no black could hope to be “grandfathered”. Tsk, tsk.
Voter repression continues to exist in some states, particularly those tinged the same colour as Rudolph’s nose. One of the most clever devices is the “exact match” law which typically requires you to show up for voter registration with several pieces of official ID which exactly match your name on the census lists.
Now, for many of us, that would be no big deal. If your name is Susan Mary Black, and you never got stuck with a pervasive nickname like Bunny, you’re likely in luck. But for poor souls like myself, not so much.
Registered at birth as John Norman Bowley, my paternal grandfather Normand (pictured above) promptly decided I was his namesake and called me Normie. It stuck. Middle name problem. With a little bit of bureaucratic bungling over the years, I have licenses and certificates and credit cards and whatevers featuring J-Norman, Norman J, Norman, Normand, and one or two others. Some of my francophone friends tease me as Jean-Normand. At the hospital I am John. For international and air travel I’ve managed to get enough of these papers to match that I can get on an airplane, but it was, believe me, pretty arduous to get everything all lined up.
And I have three university degrees, several professional designations and I know my way around the system.
I can only imagine what it would be like to come from a single-parent household, birth registration in the name of some long-forgotten father, school certificates in the name of either my birth mother or the aunt who raised me, a military discharge certificate issued by some official who didn't like me or the funny way my name was spelled, and fearful and skeptical of a system that always gave me the short end, anyway. You get the picture.
It would sure be a relief to be grandfathered!
With all eyes on the US midterms only a few days hence, observers around the world are beginning to understand that Donald Trump was quite right to speak of “rigged” elections, although not exactly as he meant.
Notwithstanding the belief of many Americans, their country is not the world’s only democracy, nor its oldest, largest or even best example. It is, however, the most influential functioning democracy and until recently something of a beacon. And it has contributed disproportionately to our political lexicon.
Even from its beginnings, American democracy has never been unalloyed. Anti-democratic tendencies have waxed and waned since the days of Jefferson and Hamilton. The Electoral College, for example, was calculated to keep the ultimate selection of a president out of the hands of the great unwashed.
But perhaps the most cynical perversions of democracy have to do with the manipulation of the voting process. While the suppression of voting groups by qualification tests is pernicious enough, perhaps the most insidious abuse is gerrymandering.
To understand gerrymandering, consider a large square containing twelve dots which you have been tasked to divide into four voting districts. Now, of course, if you truly want to practice fair representation, you will divide the square such that there are three dots in each portion, but if you want your party to win the next election, and many more after that, you will identify the three most faithful dots and give each of them its own division, leaving the other nine to share the remainder. You will thus be virtually guaranteed a majority win every time. (It’s slightly more complex than that, but you get the idea.)
Shenanigans of this sort long predate American democracy, going back at least to the rotten boroughs of Britain, which were finally abolished by the Reform Act of 1832. The most famous of these, Sarum Hill in Wiltshire (1295-1832), even after it ultimately became uninhabited, still qualified to send two members to Parliament, including the Prime Minister William Pitt the Elder.
It was Massachusetts’ Governor Elbridge Gerry who gave his name to the American practice. In 1812 he signed a bill which re-drew the electoral map of the state to give near-perpetual electoral success to his Democratic-Republican party. Before long, some wag noticed that the map of one grotesquely distorted district rather resembled a salamander, and coined the term Gerry-mander, which expression has become part of our political lexicon.
Gerrymandering remains alive and well in the United States because, unlike in most other democracies, the power to draw electoral boundaries remains with elected officials. To nobody's surprise, politicians continue to draw district boundaries to their own advantage. They are human, after all.lick here to edit.
Just recently, my dear and ever-patient wife sent me an e-mail asking my opinion about a Christmas gift for one of our grandchildren.
Like many of us, I use Gmail. As I was opening and reading her question, Google had already proposed three responses: “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”, “I think that's a great idea!”, and “I don't think so.” All I needed to do was click on one of them.
While we’ve come a long way from telemarketers' predictive dialing and WordPerfect's primitive Spellcheck, we've also learned (often the hard way) that blind reliance on computer-proposed answers can get us in trouble. We’re not quite at the point where we can trust computers to do all of our thinking for us.
Without doubt, Artificial Intelligence apps such as Grammarly are wonderful for screening out goofy typos and spelling errors, but they can't yet detect the sense of the thing. For example, a few Briefings back I deliberately wrote, “Ore wood eye?” Grammarly gave me a pass on that syntactical nonsense. The next week I used the indicative instead of the subjunctive, and not a murmur from Grammarly. But a human reader caught me!
Oddly enough, we are much less concerned about letting computers speak for us than letting them drive our cars for us. While most of the evidence is that self-driving cars are already far safer than human-driven cars, most of us approach the technology with trepidation. Self-driving cars are just about physics-- distance, speed, road surfaces, gaps-- all measurable to fifty decimal places and utterly predictable, and also not subject to fatigue, distraction, alcohol or medications. On the scale of things, easy stuff.
But communication is far more complex than driving a car. It's not just words-- it's about subtly nuanced interchanges between minds, hearts and souls. The day may come that Artificial Intelligence knows about your mood, your level of emotional intimacy with the other person and your vocabularic style, and it may learn to copy the tell-tale tremble in your voice, the furrow in your brow, and the inquiring tilt of your head. But until it does, you're still in charge of your essential human interactions.
Until Artificial Intelligence is smarter than you, you're still responsible for what you say. If you're prepared to hit "send" without reading and thinking, be prepared for the consequences.
Babies normally get their own way and very young children struggle to keep it that way. Most kids, though, gradually learn to consider the needs and feelings of others in order to function within society. We call this “growing up” and collectively, “civilization”.
A few, however, never grow up, and like infants, spend their entire lives trying to bend the universe to their will. Their mantra is “Nobody else matters but me”.
It’s not easy getting your own way all the time, because society imposes a bunch of “stupid rules”. These rules call for courtesy, integrity, and consideration for others. You and I might think these rules are sensible and necessary, even character-forming, but to the full-on narcissist these are weaknesses and obstacles to “success”. So, if you insist on getting your own way all the time, you need to ignore these rules, work around them, or even hijack them for your own purposes.
If you are one of those special few who believe it is your right to get everything you want, all the time, let me propose some helpful guidelines:
1. If you have any scruples, leave them at the door. They’re for weaklings and losers.
2. This is no game. This is all about “winning”, every time, all the time. There is no “time out”.
3. Whatever it takes, crush all opposition. There’s only one winner, and that must be you. Make it very personal and teach opponents a lesson they’ll never forget.
4. Build yourself a base of loyal-to-the-death followers. Here’s how: First, identify a demographic which will be putty in your hands. Find groups who demonstrably like “big man” leadership and accept as gospel all kinds of stuff which won’t hold up to intellectual or moral scrutiny. Now convince them that they’re special, that their cause is righteous (but threatened) and that you are their champion. Tell them what they want to hear, not what they need to hear. Stir up their emotions, not their intellects. Be their star, keep them entertained and talking about you. As much as possible, deliver for them, as long as it costs you little or nothing.
5. Talk fast. Never allow time for analysis. Pump up emotion all the time, because emotion invariably clouds reason.
6. Truth is what you need it to be and should never be allowed to get in the way of winning.
7. If anybody challenges you or asks for proof of what you are saying, just refuse. Go ballistic. Eventually most of them will give up. If they don’t, create a distraction or attack the questioner, painting them as an enemy of your followers. There’s a win in that.
8. Ultimately, if you don’t get your way, remember what your Mommy taught you: tantrums work.
Glad to be of help.
(On the advice of my "editorial board", I want to be clear that I don't support, or even like, the kind of people described here. However, there are many useful communication and life lessons to be learned, even if the lessons are "don't do this!".)
Last Friday’s Briefing garnered more than its share of response, mostly positive. Since there were no death threats, let’s take the topic a bit further. And then I’ll leave it alone.
To get perspective, consider three stories-- the first two of which will be familiar, the third not so much. Yet it’s the most important.
Recently the US Supreme Court, on very narrow grounds, ruled that in the specific circumstances of the case, a baker was justified in refusing to bake a wedding cake for a gay couple. Gallons of ink were spilled, the Religious Right danced in the streets, the American left went into mourning.
Even more recently, the Red Hen restaurant refused service to Sarah Sanders, expressly because she is the official apologist for Donald Trump and everything for which he stands. Now the liberals celebrated while the Republicans went to the barricades. And media types interviewed each other for days.
Two stories that consumed the public discourse, yet are in the scheme of things inconsequential. Shiny distractions. Because down on the seventh or eighth search page there are many stories which should be in the centre of public discourse, but aren’t.
One such story is Bangladesh.
Bangladesh is a canary in the coal mine in which we all live. With a population greater than that of Russia, two-thirds of the country lies less than fifteen feet above sea level. The twenty percent which is at three feet or less is disproportionately crowded because it is disproportionately fertile, or at least it was fertile before rising sea levels began to contaminate groundwater.
For Bangladeshis, dreams of escaping third world poverty evaporate as more and more of the national budget goes to a losing battle against the rising sea and increasingly violent cyclones. Their country, for the most part, may become uninhabitable.
The country has always faced flooding-- in 1970 a twenty foot storm surge killed at least 300,000. But as global warming heats the Bay of Bengal, that body of water becomes the perfect cyclone generator, with higher water and winds driving unprecedented surges. Expect repetitive tragedy of horrifying proportions.
Soon enough, the rest of the world may face a stark choice: let the Bangladeshis drown or accept refugees on a scale we can’t imagine. In particular, large empty countries like Canada, Australia and Brazil may have some hard decisions.
And Bangladesh is just one of scores of such stories we push aside while we snipe at each other about David and Charlie’s wedding cake or Sarah’s dinner.
I promise that next Friday I’ll move on to lighter and more traditional communication topics. But not more important.
OK, this one is definitely on the “Dear Abby” side of the communication spectrum. But given that the situation discussed here tends to sneak up without warning, it's a good idea to have a contingency plan. Smart communicators are prepared.
Here's the typical scenario: you're on your merry way when you suddenly slam into something which horrifies all your sensibilities. You discover, for instance, that your supervisor is defrauding the company. But, your supervisor is also your uncle. And there is no such thing as unseeing what you have seen.
You could travel along for years as a queasy rider, constantly nauseous, hoping that the situation just goes away and nobody ever finds out. In this scenario, you get the ulcer while your uncle sips pina coladas!
But there are more serious problems with the ostrich approach when and if the situation sees the light of day. First, you will be seen as somehow complicit, second, as time passes, your memory will let you down.
So, from a communicator's point of view, how do you handle such a situation? The questions really resolve down to what you say (if anything), to whom, how and when.
Here's the main thing: almost invariably, situations such as this have criminal implications. All too easily you can get wedged into a nasty place. A consultation with a well-recommended criminal defence counsel is often in order. Not only will they see the situation in a detached, logical way, but their discussion with you is covered by lawyer-client privilege.
It may also be wise to share the problem with someone “near and dear”, but only after you've taken legal guidance. Why? Because only with the lawyer do you enjoy lawyer-client privilege, so you will want your first guidance to occur in a fully safe zone. Even interspousal communication is not as privileged as many think.
It also goes without saying that if you need to make a public statement, consultation with a communication expert can be worth its weight in gold, especially if the expert is legally knowledgeable. For privilege purposes, it is worth considering having the communication expert retained by your lawyer.
The last bit of communication advice is that you must keep thorough notes, made contemporaneously, and with backup copies, all kept securely and privately. When you are called into question, or as a witness, many years down the road, you will be grateful that you have a “Comey Memo”.
In summary, keep your cool, get advice which is covered by privilege, and keep a careful record. Follow your conscience, but let your conscience be guided by clear thinking and good advice. And pray every night that this never befalls you.
In a recent study it was demonstrated that mice who were exposed to L-Felinine as babies were significantly less likely to flee from cats when they became adults, making them much more likely to end up on the feline dinner table. In simple terms, little mice exposed to cat pee would grow up with a diminished fear of their mortal enemy.
In the business and professional world, you shouldn’t send a letter or e-mail unless you intend some result. If you send out a missive and don't achieve the result, you’ve not only wasted your time but you have now told the recipient that it's OK to ignore you. So much for relevance!
Norman Bowley is a communicator by passion, a lawyer and educator by profession. Thirty-six years of legal practice after ten years as an educator have equipped Norm to teach professionals how to communicate effectively and with power.