everything is pathologized

I think I am perhaps a bit too willing to pathologize behaviors - mine and others. Recently, I was explaining to a friend that my pre-school-aged son's teacher suggested that he might have some sort of disorder. I described the behaviors and what the teacher had said, and my friend blurted out, "yeah, it's called being FOUR!" Then, another incident: explaining to a colleague that I thought my depression about a certain aspect of my work was getting in the way of doing it effectively. "Why do you call that depression?" he asked, "it strikes me as a sober analysis of the situation."

The particulars of the situations described above do not matter for the purposes of this post (whereas they matter very, very much in my actual life). My point is that a tendency toward labeling emotions, reactions, behaviors, with a kind of false specificity, is worth questioning.

I just finished reading Clancy Martin's fine essay, "The Drunk's Club: A.A., the cult that cures," in the January 2011 issue of Harper's Magazine. His essay examines the role of A.A., and the nature of meetings on the lives of those who are recovering. He refers to philosopher Herbert Finagrette who observes that the label "alcoholic" can harm the drinker in a number of ways, not the least of which is that the term can excuse behavior, carry social stigma, and create a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Certainly, the labeling of contemporary youth with varied and multiple disorders, the self-diagnosis I participate in on a seemingly daily basis - can do similar harm, even if harm is not all that they do; that is, even is there is some merit to the diagnosis, and a pathway to management emerges from it.

We label things (and people) in order to understand them, to ascribe meaning, to interpret. In so doing, it seems, we should take great care not to allow the label to replace the thing itself, to become a stand-in for something far more complicated, more nuanced, and ultimately, more human.

words made of light

I was recently introduced to the poetry of Polish Nobel laureate Wislawa Szymborksa. I read her poems alongside the etchings, drypoints and photogravures of William Kentridge in this beautiful art book, called Receiver.

I was struck by the deceptive simplicity of her language.

Consider the poem "Some People," which opens with a description of people fleeing their homes, leaving behind their possessions. There is the sound of airplanes circling and gunfire. Although we don't know exactly what they are fleeing, the poem's closing lines are chilling:

"Something else is yet to happen, only where and what?
Someone will head toward them, only when and who?
In how many shapes and with what intentions?
Given a choice,
maybe he will choose not to be the enemy and
leave them with some kind of life."

Tonight, I had the good fortune to stumble on to this: Earlier this week, Jenny Holzer created an installation of Szymborska's words, projected on to the side of the Portland Art Museum.

To see language, so imbued with power, composed of light, yet addressing the darker elements of human nature: this to me is thrilling and haunting and beautiful.

words matter

The word "humanities" has grown on me.

We are in the midst of a conversation, my colleagues and me, about whether to retain the word "humanities" in the names of our organizations.

Initially, I was all for abandoning the weighty word, in favor of something simpler, perhaps more understandable. As I have delved deeper into the work of the public (or "applied" if you prefer) humanities, over these last three years, I have discovered that really, I am not willing to give up the word that does, in fact, encompass what we do.

There is the sense among some that by talking about "building community," we are being clearer about our mission and purpose. I am not sure that I agree. Community-building has become such a ubiquitous phrase as to be nearly meaningless. I think that we do, of course, help to strengthen ties between people, which does, in fact, build communities. But the methods we use to do that are different from those of real estate developers, or social service agencies, or neighborhood advocacy groups, all of which could claim that they, too, build communities.

So, for now, I will continue to use the word "humanities" as frequently and in as many situations as I can. I will take any puzzlement or confusion on the part of listeners as an opportunity to engage in conversation about the term, and leave the community building for another day.