Respect, part 2: Authority
Jan. 14th, 2006 05:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blimixI don't like authority. It's something that's come up in my thoughts every once in a while. The exercise of authority inherently involves disrespect of someone's autonomy. Even a parent/child relationship must involve that disrespect.
I try to treat people with respect. No matter what their age or status, I don't tell them what to do. Here's a recent example: While in Waltham, I was lounging about with a teenager, R, and her little sister, D. D threw a piece of licorice across the room and missed the garbage pail.
D: I'll pick that up later.
[About five minutes of socializing go by.]
Joe: Hey, D, your memory must be much better than mine.
R: It isn't.
Joe: If I were to throw candy at home, and not pick it up -
R: You'd get in trouble?
Joe: No, I wouldn't get in trouble; it's my house. But I'd forget all about it, and after a while it would disintegrate into a big pile of black goo. Then, someone would eventually step in it with their bare foot, and that would be really gross.
R: Yeah, that's what usually happens here.
D walked over and picked up the licorice.
Imagine how much more awkward that would have been, had I had to tell someone, from a position of authority, to pick up their candy. Compliance becomes a matter of mere obedience, then, instead of following through on a decision about the best course of action.
On Thursday night, I recounted to my hosts two stories about people jumping from the cliff at the Poesten Kill Gorge. One is here. The other, more relevant one:
While clambering over some rocks at the Gorge, a teenager asked me whether I was going to jump from the cliff. (He obviously knew that it was a regular activity there.) I said, "No, every once in a while someone gets killed doing that, and I'd rather not be that person." He accepted that, and looked thoughtful. (He didn't jump. I don't know whether he had planned to.)
In both of these cases, I made my point merely by stating what my own (convincing) motives would be, were I in their shoes. I made no presumption to judge their decisions, even going so far as to compliment D on her capacity to do other than what I would do. (This was, I admit, extra sneaky. She knew that my premise about her memory was incorrect, which led her naturally to the idea that my implied conclusion (that leaving the candy on the floor was better for her than for me) was groundless.)
Back in my customer service days, I always made sure to treat children with respect. From what I've seen, they generally don't get nearly enough respect from adults.
Maybe I took this too far one day at the Great Escape. Greg,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kythec and I were in line for the Desperado Plunge. A small toddler kept pushing up against my leg. Eventually, I turned around and said to him, with dead seriousness, "Excuse me, you're invading my personal space!" The mother pulled the child back, quietly explaining, "You're invading his personal space, dear," while my friends collapsed, laughing.
I treat my cousins, no matter how young, as peers. And we get along as peers. I generally prefer the kids' table at family reunions. Essentially, I still consider myself one of the kids.
But I'm getting sidetracked. The above-linked post explores respect for kids. This merely establishes one of the reasons for my aversion to authority. Whether exercising it or subject to it, there is disrespect involved.
I disrespect most cops (not to their faces) because they disrespect me. It's nothing personal; their position of authority naturally causes them to behave disrespectfully. They know that they can tell me what to do, because they have guns and I don't. (And even if I did, they have more.) And it's their job to tell me what to do. The idea of respecting my ability to do what is right goes right out the window (all the faster when the law has little to do with what is right).
Escaping parental authority was among the best things that ever happened to me. I hope to never have to inflict it upon others. I hope that, whenever I'm in the position of being "the responsible one," I can continue the fine balancing act that is respectful persuasion.
I try to treat people with respect. No matter what their age or status, I don't tell them what to do. Here's a recent example: While in Waltham, I was lounging about with a teenager, R, and her little sister, D. D threw a piece of licorice across the room and missed the garbage pail.
D: I'll pick that up later.
[About five minutes of socializing go by.]
Joe: Hey, D, your memory must be much better than mine.
R: It isn't.
Joe: If I were to throw candy at home, and not pick it up -
R: You'd get in trouble?
Joe: No, I wouldn't get in trouble; it's my house. But I'd forget all about it, and after a while it would disintegrate into a big pile of black goo. Then, someone would eventually step in it with their bare foot, and that would be really gross.
R: Yeah, that's what usually happens here.
D walked over and picked up the licorice.
Imagine how much more awkward that would have been, had I had to tell someone, from a position of authority, to pick up their candy. Compliance becomes a matter of mere obedience, then, instead of following through on a decision about the best course of action.
On Thursday night, I recounted to my hosts two stories about people jumping from the cliff at the Poesten Kill Gorge. One is here. The other, more relevant one:
While clambering over some rocks at the Gorge, a teenager asked me whether I was going to jump from the cliff. (He obviously knew that it was a regular activity there.) I said, "No, every once in a while someone gets killed doing that, and I'd rather not be that person." He accepted that, and looked thoughtful. (He didn't jump. I don't know whether he had planned to.)
In both of these cases, I made my point merely by stating what my own (convincing) motives would be, were I in their shoes. I made no presumption to judge their decisions, even going so far as to compliment D on her capacity to do other than what I would do. (This was, I admit, extra sneaky. She knew that my premise about her memory was incorrect, which led her naturally to the idea that my implied conclusion (that leaving the candy on the floor was better for her than for me) was groundless.)
Back in my customer service days, I always made sure to treat children with respect. From what I've seen, they generally don't get nearly enough respect from adults.
Maybe I took this too far one day at the Great Escape. Greg,
kythec and I were in line for the Desperado Plunge. A small toddler kept pushing up against my leg. Eventually, I turned around and said to him, with dead seriousness, "Excuse me, you're invading my personal space!" The mother pulled the child back, quietly explaining, "You're invading his personal space, dear," while my friends collapsed, laughing.I treat my cousins, no matter how young, as peers. And we get along as peers. I generally prefer the kids' table at family reunions. Essentially, I still consider myself one of the kids.
But I'm getting sidetracked. The above-linked post explores respect for kids. This merely establishes one of the reasons for my aversion to authority. Whether exercising it or subject to it, there is disrespect involved.
I disrespect most cops (not to their faces) because they disrespect me. It's nothing personal; their position of authority naturally causes them to behave disrespectfully. They know that they can tell me what to do, because they have guns and I don't. (And even if I did, they have more.) And it's their job to tell me what to do. The idea of respecting my ability to do what is right goes right out the window (all the faster when the law has little to do with what is right).
Escaping parental authority was among the best things that ever happened to me. I hope to never have to inflict it upon others. I hope that, whenever I'm in the position of being "the responsible one," I can continue the fine balancing act that is respectful persuasion.
