Newsnight editor Ian Katz outlines what he believes is wrong about the TV political interview in this Financial Times article. In summary what’s wrong is that the interview has become a dance between defensive politicians and aggressive interviewers – each frustrated by the others’ attempts to prevent a discussion about what is really going on. But Katz outlines a new manifesto for how this relationship could move forward and his four points could be easily transported into any environment in which change and difference play a part. He says we need a new contract in which:
- Both broadcasters and politicians need to acknowledge that the interview is a transaction that must yield something useful for both sides – and especially the audience.
- We need to make a genuine attempt to explore and illuminate the dilemmas politicians face, to recognise that government is not a choice between good and bad policies but most often a search for the least worst option.
- We need to try harder to understand what makes politicians tick
- We broadcasters need to give interviews – at least some of them – the time to breathe, even if that means putting up with more boring, snoring bits.
We need more of this kind of thinking in order to get beyond simplistic dualities.
Financial Times journalist Jo Ellison in an article entitled Fear and Clothing reviews two books which argue the case for why clothes and fashion matter. Women in Clothes by
Yeti, Julavits and Shapton asked the following types of questions
Do you think you have taste or style?
Do you notice women on the street?
Do you have a dress code?
When do you feel your most attractive? [Can you] tell us about something in your closet that you keep but never wear?
Are there any dressing rules you’d convey to other women?
What’s your process of getting dressed every morning?
What are you trying to achieve when you dress?
What’s the situation with your hair?
Spivack asked these questions:
Tell me a story, connected to a piece of clothing that you still have in your possession in which something monumental, spectacular, odd or even just unusual happened while you were wearing it.
Why is it special?
Why does it have meaning?
And why are you holding on to it?
These are fantastic questions – they invite a reflective response from respondents. They ask for stories but don’t constrain answers. In all cases you get the sense that there is genuine interest and curiosity at play. It strikes me that with a few minor tweaks these questions could be applied to organisational contexts where people might be invited to tell their stories of working life; relationships with what they do and why they do it; narratives of choice, curation and consideration.
The Internet is what you make of it, obviously. And there are aspiring writers who use digital technology to read and research and seek the counsel of their peers. But the Internet has also been a great aggregator of anxiety and an enabler of our worst tendencies. It has allowed us to trumpet our own opinions, to win attention by broadcasting our laziest and cruelest judgments, to grind axes in public. It has made us feel, in some perverse sense, that we are entitled to do so.
Steve Almond’s post on the culture of entitlement is really worth considering. Almond relates the culture of entitlement to the rise of consumer culture – the ‘customer is always right’ frame of mind. the impact of this, he suggests, is that we’re too ready to dismiss creative endeavour without giving it the consideration it requires. How many times have you (or I) visited a theatre, cinema, read a book or viewed an art exhibition and come away full of entitled dismissal? Almond is even more concerned about those who dismiss without even viewing/engaging with the work. I think there’s a lesson here for all of us. Even if we don’t ‘like’ what someone creates we probably need to spend more time appreciating the effort that went in to it…that means taking some time for refection and drawing on empathy….organisations might be even more interesting to work in if those metrics were applied more regularly?
This article from Dan Jurafsky (based on his book The Language of Food: A Linguist Reads the Menu) is fascinating. He researched restaurant reviews…that’s right…over 900,000 of them relating to 6.500 individual restaurants; he also reviewed the language on the back of food packets plus restaurant menus, and the results were fascinating.
But food writing, to a linguist like me, isn’t just about food. The words you use when you write a restaurant review say as much about your own psychology as they do about which dish to order.
His findings include:
We found that when people write a “1-star” review, they use the language of trauma…
Reviewers of expensive restaurants relied on multisyllabic words such as “commensurate”, “unobtrusively”, “sumptuous” and “vestibule”, and wrote long-winded reviews to depict themselves as well educated or sophisticated.
…positive reviews of cheap restaurants and foods instead employed metaphors of drugs or addiction…
High-status restaurants want their customers to presuppose that food will be fresh, crisp and delicious. The surfeit of adjectives on middle-priced menus is thus a kind of overcompensation, a sign of status anxiety, and only the cheapest restaurants, in which the tastiness of the food might be in question, must overly protest the toothsomeness of their treats.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to order from a menu or read a restaurant review with quite the same detachment in the future.
I’ve been re-watching Margaret Heffernan’s TED talk on the value of conflict in organisations. I particularly like this quote
So how do organizations think? Well, for the most part, they don’t. And that isn’t because they don’t want to, it’s really because they can’t. And they can’t because the people inside of them are too afraid of conflict.
The organisation as rational, cognitive, thinking model is really debunked by Heffernan in an eloquent and convincing argument. How many organisations do you know (or work in or with) that strive to avoid conflict because they are scared it will ruin the idealised positivity?
Most startups fail. However many entrepreneurs still overestimate the chances of success – and the cost of failure.
This interesting piece front the Guardian focusses on the current reification of ‘failure’ (as it relates to start-ups). The myth of ‘failure’ remains alluring in certain circles, as though you have earned the right to succeed only if you’ve amounted a number of failed enterprises in your past. The problem with the ‘failure’ myth is that it doesn’t account for the emotional fall out of plugging away.
People will do a lot of irrational things to avoid losing even if it’s to their detriment. You push and push and exhaust yourself.
If we’re going to pay serious attention to failure as an important learning experience then we also have to pay attention to how expectations are set up in the first place….and, perhaps more importantly, the emotional cost of desire, satisfaction, disappointment and failure. Not all failures lead to success. Not all success is built on the back of failure. Perhaps its time to adopt the reality principle and address not only the fear of failure but the stress of pretending that everything is going well when it’s not.
From the Guardian: I can see this being used as a teaching tool on psychoanalytic training courses for years and years!
A TED talk from Dan Gilbert on the Psychology of your Future Self
I was at a very interesting lecture by Constance Deveraux in UCD recently during which the issue of ‘excellence’ (as it related to the arts) was raised.
Achieving excellence has become a mainstream indicator of success and, a primary criterion by which the arts are valued and funded. One person commented that the argument for the intrinsic value of the arts had been lost…primarily, he believed, because of the attachment to quantitative indicators of success such as audience numbers, impact on social issues etc.
On reflection, I believe one of the reasons the intrinsic value argument may have been lost is because of the ‘excellence’ argument. In order to be excellent a work or an artist or anybody must in some respects be exclusive. In attaching itself to ‘excellence’ as an indicator the arts have reinforced the argument that to be excellent means to be exclusive. If the arts are going to win the intrinsic argument then the arts need to be ‘ordinary’ so ordinary, that they are taken for granted (in a good way) as an embedded part of our day to day activity.
The idea of exclusivity and excellence and ‘being the best’ sets us all up for failure and disappointment. What ever happened to ‘good enough’ as something to strive for?
I recently finished reading Adam Phillips’ new book Becoming Freud. It’s ostensibly a ‘biography’ of Freud but Phillips begins by referencing Freud’s ambivalence about the whole idea of biography; he was sceptical and distrusting of the idea of biography even though he went on to become a wonderful biographer himself! Phillips weaves back and forth between Freud’s story and that of psychoanalysis and in many respects, this is a biography of Freud’s discoveries rather than a fact based description of his life.
What’s interesting also is that the book stops at Freud’s 50th birthday – after Freud had written his five major works and before the profession of psychoanalysis became organised. Phillips invites us to speculate what might have happened to that profession had Freud died at 50 (if indeed, there would have been a ‘profession’ at all).
It’s a beautifully written and artful exploration of the man and his work.