BLAME

WHAT IS IT ABOUT?

With all the rampant corruption and financial ineptitude now on display, our propensity for blame is getting a thorough workout. What are we up to when we blame others for what has gone wrong?

An obvious explanation is that blame is a form of scapegoating. We single merely out one of the many contributors to a misfortune, and we place the blame squarely there. That allows us to go scott free ourselves, were we in danger of sharing the blame, and it lets many many others off the hook as well. Since most things that happen have multiple causes, we can target carefully just the one we want to punish. And, in so doing, we can allow others to escape.

A recent conversation on the ISPSO listserv added some other reflections on blame, pointing out how it is tied in to our litigious society, and how it fosters an avoidance of reflection on the system as a whole which produced the unfortunate incident, guaranteeing that such incidents are all too likely to recur. (If you want to check out ISPSO, an organization devoted to exploring the psychoanalytic underpinnings of organizational life, go to www.ispso.org).

But I have another thought about blame. Finding the right person to blame makes our world whole again. The danger, the flaw, the hurt, the problem has been abolished. The rent in the fabric of reality has been fixed, the abyss filled in and paved over. We can go back to life as it was before.

This is the aim of blame. It seeks the goal of restoring the status quo ante.

I recall sitting on the dining room floor with my young daughter who had just banged her head on the corner of the table. As I held her in my arms, we hit the table again and again: “bad table.” She was distracted and appeased, while the pain gradually subsided. But I don’t think that she was really convinced it was the table’s fault.

And so it is with those of us who succeed in temporarily finding an object of blame. It consoles us and restores us to the world before — but we don’t really believe it. We have to do it again and again.

DEAD SOULS

A BIZARRE TWIST ON DEBT

A bright spot in dark sea of defaults, according to last week’s New York Times, is that collection agencies specializing in the debts of the dead are being surprisingly successful. (To read the report, click here) Death does not erase indebtedness, of course, as the estates of the deceased continue to be burdened with the obligation to make good on what is owed. But it appears that there is a exceptional willingness of family members and other inheritors to settle before it reaches that point — even when they have no legal obligation to do so. Why should that be?

Very likely most people do not grasp the legalities of the situation, and part of their willingness to pay up comes from a false belief that they must. That may also be reinforced by a general sense that the possessions of the dead need to be disposed of more or less promptly — and debt is clearly a possession of sorts, even if a negative one. Moreover, the agencies that specialize in this business train their agents to be sympathetic and “appropriate.” In this case, of course, that means refraining from telling the surviving family members that they actually have no legal obligation to pay.

Still, I suspect, there has to be more of a reason.

It must be fear, a portion of the fear of the worsening future that now drives us all to stem our losses, to watch out for hidden risks, to stay out of debt. Death adds a superstitious element, of course. I do not believe the dead really care about their debts, if they think about them at all. But we are still identified with those who have recently died, attached to memories of them, and we continue to be guilty about what we did and did not do for them while they were alive.

It puts our souls at rest to believe that theirs are at rest as well. Those who pay the debts of the dead might be able to believe they have a bit more control over themselves, over death, and maybe even over the economy as well. But I also suspect that this phenomena suggests how much guilt surrounds the dire economic situation we find ourselves in. We spent too much, borrowed too much, and we went too steeply into debt — and we know that is true without fully knowing it.

The debts of the dead focus our attention on that guilt and give us fledging opportunities to atone.

“DECREMENTAL”

A NEW WORD FOR DISASTER?

According to Monday’s Wall Street Journal, financial analysts have a new “buzz word” specifically designed to describe declining profitability.  Analagous to “incremental,” of course, “decremental” refers to a slow but continuing losses of value.  What is going on here? Why do we need  a new word?

Frankly, I don’t think we do, but “decremental” sounds softer, gentler, less extreme than “collapse,”  so much better even than “erosion” or “decline.”  Declines can be steep and frightening, and the fact is that stock values — along with profitabilty, employment, valuations, etc. etc. — have been in a steep decline, a very steep decline.

“Decremental” softens the blow by implying a gradual and slow process.  It is reassuring, implying even a soft landing.  “Decremental” losses do not lead to Black Mondays, certainly not to panics or stampedes.  And it sounds vaguely technical, objective, almost scientific. Analysts who use such terms can appear to be above the fray, knowing more than the rest of us.

Suffering “decremental” losses feels better than being where we actually are, facing an uncertain future, frightened, angry, unable to plan.

SCIENCE AND POLITICS

Can They Mix?

They need to mix, of course. Science illuminates problems that require political solutions, such as global warming, epidemics, earthquakes, and so on. It also creates opportunities for technological advancements that can be immensely beneficial to us all — if and when politicians take up the challenge of making them available beyond what markets can do on their own.

In the Science section of the New York Times this Tuesday, John Tierney comments on Obama’s nomination of Dr. John P. Holdren as his science advisor. Tierney argues scientists too often pass off their own political views as scientific truths, and he cites examples of Holdren’s alarmist predictions and intemperate “debating tactics.” Referring to Roger Pielke Jr.’s new book, The Honest Broker: Making Sense of Science in Policy and Politics, a book that tried to clarify these issues,Tierney notes Holdren’s harsh criticism of colleagues as well as his all-too-confident prediction that a billion people would die by 2020 as a result of global warming. (To see the Times article, click here.)

My point is that it is easy to understand how “scientific” debates about such issues as global warming or stem cell research or abortion can escalate into virtual shouting matches. Some issues are felt to be simply too potent, and some facts too insistent, especially when some else is playing them down. How to retain scientific objectivity and restraint, while also engaging in one’s rights as a citizen and advisor to advocate for action when action seems essential?

As Pielke’ book suggests, it is useful to have a clearer understanding of one’s proper role as a scientist when working with politicians, but that is not enough: it also requires an awareness of the inner and interpersonal forces that pull us into a fight. Enemies are always dangerous, but all the more so when they prevent us from seeing them as thoughtful alternatives to our own points of view. We don’t converse with enemies. We want to vanquish them.

Scientists, like the rest of us, can easily succumb to adolescent competitiveness or adult grandiosity. We all are vulnerable to an inflated sense of our own importance – or of the importance of the issues we are invested in. And if we are part of a group committed to political activity, it is even more difficult to restrain ourselves.

Perhaps public awareness of the danger – the danger that science will become unduly politicized – can act as a restraint on such debates. Perhaps the political groups themselves, becoming more fearful of the danger, can remind their members of their need for appropriate restraint. The most effective advice often comes from the friends who have our best interests at heart or the colleagues we trust.

BAD COMPETITION

and How to Tell it From Good

Competition is so enshrined in our culture as a virtue, so essential a motivation to our economy, that it is hard to be critical of it. If it goes bad, if it drives individual to cheat, say, to take performance enhancing drugs, or injure others or lose sight of their other needs, we punish the individuals who succumb to temptation.  In fact it seems as if we punish them doubly:  first for the transgression itself, but then for the disappointment and let-down we experience in having our ideals sullied and our role models tarnished.

We see this now clearly in the treatment of the baseball players who took steroids but it is also echoed in the current villification of CEOs and hedge fund managers in the wake of the collapse of Wall Street.  I am not suggesting that those who cheat, who are greedy or use poor judgment should not be punished.  On the contrary, I am suggesting that singling them our for blame can stop us from fully understanding why it happens and where useful changes might be made. 

Competition in its essence is not an individual phenomenon. At the very least, it takes two to compete. Actually it take classes of combatants as well as teams – and observers – to sustain a viable competition.  Look at the Olympics industry, subdivided into associations and leagues for dozens of individual sports throughout the world.  Look any any market.  Or any spectator sport with its season ticket holders, avid fans and spin off products.  So much is at stake for so many.  The individual competitor is only the tip of the iceberg.

Bad competition for the individual is where it comes to mean too much, where the difference between winning and losing is catastrophic, unacceptable.  Such devastating pressure can come from parents of little leaguers who are over-invested in the child’s success, coaches whose own careers are at stake in their team’s performance, and certainly it can come from individual competitors whose insecurities find failure too painful to endure.  Not for nothing do we do our best to inculcate pride and sportsmanship in our children.

But the bigger problem is the larger system, when we ourselves demand that the competitor succeed for our own sakes.  If our self-esteem is invested in the performance of an athlete or our self interest  bound up with the achievements of a financial guru, we lose tolerance for disappointment and loss.  In such circumstances, all too often, there are no inner restraints to mitigate our response, no sign that our expectations and demands  are out of hand, that we are asking others to do more than they possibly can.  In essence we egg them on and on.

We create, in effect, a double pressure, without restraint and without forgiveness, and we do this largely without knowing that that is what we are doing.  It’s not fair that we do this, of course;  but, worse, it is counterproductive because we encourage corruption and ultimate failure.

So how can we tell when good competition become bad?  We have to look at ourselves and our stake in the outcome.  This is not a foolproof test, but it is something we are not used to doing — and something that will make a difference if we try.