Skirting the Apology "Gap"

On the way home today, I was informed there is a newly recognized gap in the forever-tilting battle of men against women: The apology gap. The recognition was spurred by a segment from the Fox News program "Outnumbered." The reference they cited was a public service commercial from Pantene, the hair-care products company. (I'm sure they make other things as well; that's just what I know them for.)

The gist of the commercial was that women apologize too much for the wrong things, and they should stop it. The rationale is that it can make the woman both appear weak in front of others, and feel less confident about herself. One example from the commercial includes a setting on the job, where a woman says that she is "sorry" for interrupting someone else at the office to ask a question. Frankly, it's the kind of thing that I might say on the job, which doesn't prove anything one way or another.

People apologize for all kinds of things, and for all kinds of reasons. I would not be surprised to find out that, on average, women apologize more often than men, particularly on the job. Considering, however, that all of life is not spent on the job, I would also not be surprised if it were demonstrated than men apologize more overall when you throw in relationships, families, etc. Honestly, it doesn't matter to me. While my life is average in many ways, I don't live in an average. I am unconcerned over which sex apologizes more. My concern is how appropriate are the apologies, and what affect they are having on society.

A decade ago, I would not have cared, period. The idea that there could be "too many" apologies floating around would have seemed like a non-issue to me. If an apology was given when warranted, that was simply common courtesy, and no cause for alarm. If an apology was given though not warranted, so I reasoned, then excessive courtesy had been rendered, and there was still no cause for alarm.  A review of society has led to a change in that attitude.

Part of the change in my attitude is due to a more thorough look at myself, and how I use speech. My look has shown me that any type of speech will tend to lose meaning when overused. This can apply to anything from a parent that shouts over every infraction, large or small, their children commit to the perfunctory "good morning" we hand out to passers by on the way to school. We say it, but there is seldom any real meaning attached. It's just one more check on our list of things to do for the day. Verbally polite? Check. Moving on...

The larger part of my shift in thought leans more on societal attitudes. What people receive often, they come to expect, and even demand. I have heard this referred to by various names. Hygiene Factor is one term. Entitlement Mentality is another. Whatever you call it, the phenomena applies as well to apologies as anything else. We see it every time a public figure makes some kind of statement that offends a group or individual, and is hauled before the court of public opinion to apologize. It's reflected in the ultra-sensitive attitude that demands ever increasing bans on words, phrases, attitudes, or even basic freedoms that might offend, or at least enable someone to claim offense. The focus is shifted from reconciliation to accusation. The apology, the action meant to help bring us together, instead becomes the fulcrum used to pry us further apart. And giving the apology is no longer the glue that holds us together, but simply evidence of how broken we are, how terrible our relationships really are, whether between male and female, husband and wife, rich and poor, black and brown and white.

The irony is crisp and biting. We now have to be more guarded about our apologies, and yet I seldom recall the world in a more "sorry" state. I believe that Pantene sponsored the commercial with fine intentions, and I believe it will achieve nothing of significant value. It's just one more attempt, thankfully softer than most, at fine-tuning societal attitudes from those above "who know better." The track record on such attempts is not encouraging. What generally happens in cases like this is that the matter starts to get attention, stirs up controversy, and then conflict escalates through groups of varying influence. Not of that does or even can have a whole lot of positive effect on public attitudes. If you find my attitude on the subject a bit jaded or cynical, well, I'm sorry.

The First Father's Day Letter

Dear Dad,

I’ve been on my own for a while now, and I wanted to take a moment to stay in touch. Though we are far apart, you at home and me here, I needed to say that you are still important to me. I can’t see you all the time now, but I think of you every day, and the distance between us doesn’t change the love and respect I have for you. I owe you so much.

Things are rough out here. This isn’t like home. Some days I let that surprise or upset me more than I should. You taught me from my youth how things were away from the family. You also taught me that this was where I needed to be. You taught that there were so many people here that didn’t even know where to look for hope or peace or love, much less find it, that it was up to our family to come and point the way. It was up to us to follow your example. Mostly, it was up to me.

I’m thankful for all that you taught growing up, things like persistence, hard work, honesty. They have helped me to make a living and keep going in good times and bad. And I thank you for the care packages you send, the provisions that arrive just when I need them the most. You always know.

I know that I haven’t always been a good son to you. Sometimes I’ve tried, and failed. Sometimes I haven’t really tried. That’s the worst of it. No, the worst of it is I know in my heart that you know the truth of all those times and let me deal with it in the hopes that I would learn. My hope is that I do learn, Dad, that I learn each day to be more like you. I need your help, though.

As I said, things are rough out here. I’m hanging on the best way I know how, but there are some days that I just don’t know how I’m going to make it. And I keep thinking that it would be so easy to take a few “shortcuts” here and there, just until things lighten up a bit. And in the back of my mind, or deep in my heart, I can hear you whispering a gentle warning “No, not that way,” and I know you’re right but it’s just really hard sometimes.

I’m asking you to help me out, Dad. I know that you’ve got people working everywhere in jobs I can’t even imagine. I know the time is past for you to treat me like a child and make all of my decisions. I guess that I am just praying that you’ll have some workers in the right place to help me avoid some of the worst mistakes I might make, kind of keep me on the path, shepherd me through the low points.

I’m asking for help in getting past the worst of me, so I can be more like You. I’m asking for that because no one has ever shown me anything better than that. I can’t think of anything better than that, and I don’t think I ever will.

All my love,

Your son

Beating a Dead Poet

I found out in a posting on an educational site I visit frequently (hat tip to Joanne Jacobs) that one of my favorite Robin Williams movies has reached the quarter century mark. As difficult as it is for me to believe, Dead Poets' Society has turned silver though, according to some of the reviews, malignant black or green would be just as appropriate.

It was an article I was not eager to accept, and a premise I had little desire to agree with. As I said, this was one of my favorite of Mr. William's works. I thought the writing was well done, the cinematography good, and the performances quite believable on the whole. Williams managed to be funny at times without going totally ballistic. He managed to be dramatic at times as well, something a good deal more rare for him in those days. Summing things up, I suppose it's correct to say that I like the work as "a movie." If you try to evaluate Dead Poets' Society in terms of messaging, the picture changes.

The references and commentary provided by Ms. Jacobs give an excellent picture of what's not to like about the film from an educator's standpoint. I recommend visiting there through the above link for that aspect. My views on academic rigor and the demands of writing were mostly set by the time I had seen the film, and I had no children then, so I was a good deal more forgiving when it came to movie characters trying to pass off intellectual tripe as nobility with regards to the younger generation. (Things have changed considerably these days.) There was, however, a small portion of the film that I found particularly irksome, even then.

There is a point in the movie where Mr. Keating (Williams) is addressing his class, and wants to impress upon them the importance of the study of poetry. To make his point, he declares "We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." And I remember thinking even as he said it that somewhere, somehow, my life's goals, dreams, hopes, and priorities had just been demoted, scooped up before the cinema public and proclaimed nothing more than a droplet in the stream of human passion, and that unless elevated by the ranks of the poets it might as well not even exist.

As the other commentaries said, narcissism plays a key part in the message. While I am great believer in the value of love, beauty, and even poetry (on occasion), experience and reflection have shown me that their greatest value to mankind has come when they are bestowed from beyond mankind. Don't get me wrong. I've read and enjoyed the work of some marvelously talented authors, playwrights, poets, lyricists, singers, and I say without hesitation that they have enhanced my life in many ways. But there is only one Author whose passion has inspired life forever.

Oddly enough, Hollywood seems to want little to do with him.

Adults Need Not Apply

Quite a while ago, when I was still serving in the U.S. Navy, a buddy of mine told me a joke. It was one of what I consider the "classic" styles of jokes, where the person asks a seemingly serious question, and then, after the "I don't know reply" from the audience, finishes off with an answer that is unexpected and (hopefully) humorous. In this case, the question was "What's the difference between the Navy and the Sea Scouts?" The "joke" answer was "The Sea Scouts have adult supervision."

The joke generally got a laugh because most people in the service had run into situations where the implication, that the Navy did NOT have adult supervision, seemed pretty reasonable. There were times I was forbidden to wear a uniform winter coat while there was still snow on the ground because the regulations transitioned to summer dress by date, not temperature. There were times I was pulled out of my bed after near 20 hour shifts to clean an area, not because it was dirty, but because a senior officer was coming and we wanted to make a "good impression." There were other examples, but hopefully most people can see my point. Most people have probably experienced my point, if not in the military than in some other kind of bureaucracy.

It isn't as though the military has a corner on silly rules and decisions in the work place. They just have one of the best mechanisms for making sure that the silly rules are followed. (Trust me, when you can't quit the job, and the alternative to following the order is confinement, loss of pay, or going to a felony trial, you are willing to go along with a lot.) Sadly, all of us find ourselves in a similar predicament, not at work, but in our daily lives. Both the number of silly rules and the mechanisms for enforcement are growing. And growing. And growing. And as this happens, we are losing not only freedom, but the concepts that make freedom possible.


I remember a time in my life when there was a concept of being an "adult." The idea was that eventually all of the children would "grow into one." That was considered a good thing. There were some differences in the fine details of what the term meant, but there was wide agreement with regards to the basics.

The adult was an individual judged fully capable of participating in society, society in this case referring to our republican democracy and the business, social, and legal structures it entailed. The adult could own property and act as his own agent in matters of contracts. She was given great authority to govern her own affairs, and those of her children. Likewise, she was responsible for her conduct, and that of her minor children. He was credited with being able to judge the risks inherent in action, and accepting the consequences, good and bad, of those actions. He was free to negotiate employment with a business of his choosing, including the salary clients he would accept, on a case-by-case basis without interference from the government or other third parties. She was granted deference under law as to the ability to determine the character of employees she would accept, and the conduct and image they would display on the job, because during that time they were representatives not of themselves, but of the business. If that didn't sit well with them, they had the right to quit or not take the job in the first place.

The adult was expected to exercise judgment, whether on the job, at home, or in public spaces. There were no "zero tolerance" policies. The adult in charge would examine the facts, and come to a decision. It might be right and it might be wrong, but it was their decision to make and their consequences to bear as long as they held the job. That was the point.

The adult parents were trusted to raise their own children until a substantial amount of evidence was given that they could not. In the spirit of community, others could, and often did, provide comment and feedback on those efforts, but it was still considered the responsibility of the parents. This included providing adequate food, shelter, instruction, and health care for themselves and those in their charge. Producing children that you could not or would not provide for was considered to be a great failure, both in terms of character and judgment.

The adult, having reached the age of majority, was responsible for their financial obligations. It was up to the adult to find a way to make it in the world.  Family and friends, businesses and churches and charities could all be approached for assistance, but none of them were legally obligated or compelled to provide it. Not to an adult.

It was a much rougher world, no doubt about it. But there were payoffs. There were generations of people that were strong, resilient, faithful, secure in the knowledge that they would make it after the storm whether FEMA showed up or not, that they could and would feed their families with no public assistance check. By hard experience they learned what worked, what didn't, and what to avoid. And they passed that knowledge on to their children, who either took it or didn't, and then had their own consequences to deal with. They developed the confidence to succeed, and the ability to walk up to anyone and claim their rights face to face, no lawsuit required.

A lot of people ended up in bad situations. It was often regarded to be the consequence of poor decisions or character. Unsurprisingly, that was the case more often than not. The adult recognized that life was unfair, and that any system instituted by men was imperfect at best, hopelessly corrupt at worst, and whining about it did nothing to change either state. The adult was raised to know that the quickest fix to any problem they encountered started with them, not some politician or lawyer with little or no stake in the outcome, and no real idea of the problem. It was their job, their family, their life, and it was up to them to make it work. They were only "help" that they knew was coming. But the individual who had demonstrated character and maturity to her peers seldom stood alone at times of great need. They would find themselves surrounded by others willing to assist, people of strength and character, confidence and skill and understanding. These were other adults.

 There was a time when it was feared that the introduction of too much work and discipline on our youth was a great danger, that taking them away from their chances to play and explore without the responsibilities of adulthood was cruel at the outset and destructive in the long term. I don't dispute the reasoning, just the execution. We have in many cases not only reduced the requirements for discipline, but abolished them. We have gone from forcing youth labor to making it all but impossible, and in doing so destroyed the opportunity for so many to gain confidence at a time it would greatly benefit them. And in the name of "safety," we continue to suppress discovery, activity, and responsibility.

Based on the results that I see, I do not think these efforts have given us a new generation happier or better adjusted to life than the ones that came before them. I see a generation largely untested, anxious of the challenges that lay ahead, with no measure of their ability to meet them. Their early lives are governed with little experience, instead shifting into an ever expanding list of rules, regulations, and policies that give the appearance of structure, but provide none of the support.

And society continues to expand these same methods beyond adolescence. No decisions are required. Just follow the book, and you are covered. You need not worry about your income, your retirement, your health care, or even having to make any important decisions in your day-to-day live. Those have all been made. All you have to do is go along, move from that safe little non-inquisitive child to a generic human instrument of a regulated society. You will never win, but you can't lose, at least not more than anyone else. Accept that as the important thing, and your satisfaction is guaranteed. A more few generations and, with luck, no one will remember it was ever any other way. Why would they?

There will be nothing worth remembering.