I’m thankful to attend the State Pastors’ Retreat this week. The Free Will Baptist Christian Education Board in Missouri does a great job planning this valuable event.
So Much Information, So Little Time
Consider all that has transpired in the past week. The American President gave the State of the Union Address. The Russian invasion of Ukraine continued to unfold. News broke concerning the escalating price of gas. A new Batman film hit theaters. Add to this the hundred other little to big things you heard about. What do you think about them? How do you feel?
Some weeks in life are filled with more noteworthy events than others. But most of us find ourselves overwhelmed by headlines bearing the dubious moniker, “Breaking News.” Even if we attribute this to our particular media environment, we’re complicit, too. When we click a link, constantly scroll our social media feeds, or repeatedly attend to a television, radio, or another device, we’re welcoming all kinds of news. There’s plenty to be said about what this does to our attention spans or our ability to concentrate. But let me pose a different question: does your everyday encounter with national and global affairs not force you to have an opinion?
No one likes to be the one uninformed person at the water cooler on Monday morning. We want people to know that we’re up to speed, plugged in, engaged. Note the modern feel of each of these expressions. They might convey the idea of being informed, but they don’t necessarily convey the idea of being wise.
Our church’s Randall House/D6 Curriculum lesson two weeks ago was on the nature and pursuit of wisdom. Even a cursory reading of Proverbs suggests that wisdom is far more than data, information, or even knowledge. It goes deeper. It takes our understanding and applies it to the daily experience of living in God’s world. As it has been commonly defined, wisdom is skill in living.
Yet there’s something uniquely challenging about pursuing wisdom while we’re simultaneously inundated with news. There’s the obvious question: is this true? Then there are the less obvious, but no less important ones: is the framing of this story slanted with a particular political bias? Why this story now? What details have been excluded (intentionally or unintentionally)? Then there are the questions that Christians must also answer: how might a biblical worldview inform my response to this information? What will it look like to love my neighbor in view of this? How might Christ’s church respond, assuming this is a truthful account of reality?
You can jot down your own questions, including variations of these. But you cannot escape the challenge of discernment. This challenge isn’t simply about finding reliable sources of information. It’s about the humility we need in the face of a thousand different stories, a thousand different perspectives, and a thousand different unknowns in any given situation.
Adam Grant’s provocative book Think Again is instructive in this area. Grant is an organizational psychologist who teaches at the Wharton School of Business. His work commends many of the intellectual habits that I think are relevant to swimming in a sea of information. Grant warns of two opposite maladies concerning knowledge. First, he warns of the Armchair Quarterback syndrome. This guy has a high level of confidence in what he knows, while simultaneously having a low level of competence. Not surprisingly, these types of people tend to make the most errors in organizations. On the other hand, there are those with Imposter Syndrome. They are the inverse of the Armchair Quarterback: low confidence, high competence.
Grant provides some very helpful analysis of how these two types of individuals fare, but it will become apparent to the discerning reader that the latter, while not desirable, is preferable to the former. Low confidence can sometimes deter us from leaning into opportunities, speaking up, and taking a stand. So some work has to be done to calibrate one’s confidence properly—to pursue what Grant calls “confident humility,” a term I’ve used in the past independent of reading Grant (although in a different context).
I think Grant can help us as we’re bombarded not only by more and more information, but by the pressure to have a robust, confident opinion about everything being discussed. To put it rather simplistically, it’s okay to say, “I don’t know”! Moreover, it’s more than okay to say, “Initially this raises some concerns for me, but I’d like to study the matter more.” Not only is it okay, but it’s wise.
First, being slow to pontificate aloud reflects humility. Second, proceeding cautiously and letting our words be few reflects the patience required to wait for the fuller picture of a story or situation to be revealed.
Yes, “foot-in-mouth syndrome” isn’t pretty, but my suggestion here is more than a face-saving strategy. It’s a recognition that journalism and news media isn’t always about “just the facts.” My suggestion also recognizes the provisional nature of so much of human knowledge, the arrogant tendency to always be first and right, and the contemporary relevance of wisdom.
You’re wrong about some things. So is your favorite news personality. You don’t always see the entire picture. Neither do they. Now, you’re ready to watch the news.
What Makes a Good Speech?
Many readers will have watched all or part of President Biden’s State of the Union speech this past Tuesday. Those who watched none of it most likely watched, heard, or read commentary on the speech itself. (I’ll bet you’re forming all kinds of strong opinions now about a speech you didn’t even listen to! Shame on you, Armchair Quarterbacks!)
I’m going to make a controversial claim: a speech could be regarded as a good speech, even if the content of the speech is objectionable. Let’s stick to presidential speeches. I’m suggesting that I don’t have to agree with all that was said in a speech to regard it as a serviceable, good, or even great speech. Naturally I’ll have a difficult time regarding a political speech as good or great if I don’t agree with the policies or principles. But if you survey the annals of American history, you can find speeches that are memorable, significant, and even beautiful, but which also contain some errors.
Let me be clear: I do not think that President Biden’s speech was good or great. But to be truthful, I can count on one hand how many great speeches I’ve heard in the last ten years. We should be fair on this point. Most speeches politicians give are written by others—sometimes entirely. Many of them never even make it onto our radar. A good number of them are made in academic or professional settings not covered by mainstream news outlets. You have to go looking for them. And speeches that are made in the heat of campaigns have a certain disingenuous, pandering quality that makes you feel sheepish, even when it’s a candidate you’ll likely vote for.
But for those who value the English language, the art of persuasion, and our American political system, we should develop a healthy appreciation for effective speech-making. Years ago I read an interesting book called The Anti-Intellectual Presidency: The Decline of Presidential Rhetoric from George Washington to George W. Bush. Elvin Lim explores why political discourse and speechmaking have been dumbed down so much over the decades. Spoiler alert: it’s not just the politicians who are to blame!
I think we have three main temptations in this area. First, we devalue rhetoric itself to the point that we don’t really have any concrete ideas about what makes a good speech. Second, we refuse to keep an open mind, especially on matters that are less driven by clear Constitutional or moral principles, so we render ourselves unpersuadable. Accordingly, we’re unwilling to enter into the project of listening to an argument and considering its merits. Third, we simply don’t like to think! And if we’re not willing to think, then why would those seeking our votes and agreement take the time to construct a thoughtful, well-reasoned discourse? They should do exactly what they’re currently doing: engage in demagoguery, slander, blaming others, sloganeering, and preaching to the choir.
Don’t “Like” anti-intellectual posts. Don’t retweet quotes that over-simplify complex subjects. Don’t check out of speeches the moment you determine the political affiliation of the speech-giver. Don’t give unserious people the time of day.
Positively, demand logic, not assertions. Demand propriety, not crudeness. Reward civility with your attention. Demand more, and eventually you just may get more.
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Comment (Summer 2021 Edition)
You remember the State of the Union Address if you watched it, even if you might not call it “memorable.” In your lifetime, what’s the most memorable political speech you recall? What about it impressed you?