Power Language

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April 19, 2024- When I was a child, the concept that every blow delivered would be followed by an equal and opposite retaliatory strike was alien to me. I thought, naively, that a simple exchange of blows was enough for each boy to express his annoyance at the situation. My opponents uniformly believed that there had to be a winner and a loser.

There has been much discussion, over the past five years, about Love Language-the way in which an individual gives and receives love. My love language, for example, is acts of service. Words of affirmation, quality time and physical touch are secondary love languages-expressed only to a certain few.

Power is also a concept that is expressed in “languages” of sorts. (These are only my thoughts on the matter.) The power languages I have ascertained are persuasion, coercion, diminution, guilt-mongering and inclusion. The first and last are positive means to power. The second, third and fourth are negative, if not neurotic, power languages.


Both persuasion and inclusion involve patience, flexibility and a regard for others that is equal to one’s self-regard. Persuasion entails a commitment to a lengthy engagement with those whose agreement and co-operation are desired. Inclusion entails an inherent regard for the other person’s, or group’s, sense of self-worth. Inclusion is a longer game, in which the perception of power, coming from within the self, is large enough a reservoir that the individual sees others as being of the same worth as self. The two power languages do not entail a lesser view of either oneself or any other human being. They may even extend to non-human animals, plants, funga and spirits.

Coercion, often involving physical force, but also including bribery, co-opting, blackmail and obfuscation, is the most common historical power language. Even in modern times, the cynic’s Golden Rule, “He who has the gold makes the rules”, has silenced those whose financial or time-management skills are sufficiently wanting, that a keen observer who is hungry for power can leverage the person’s weakness and buy or intimidate them into giving up their agency.

Diminution, the convincing of social groups of their own unworthiness and of the superiority of others, is a second very common historical power language. It is the modus operandi of the plantation, of the colonial system and of patriarchy. Diminution depends on a top-down decision-making apparatus. It goes beyond the sensible system of parenthood, infantilizes women, disempowers adolescents, and instills a sense of superiority in members of a dominant culture. This is most obvious in the notions of White Supremacy and Male Superiority, but is also true of any culture where a dominant group trivializes the contributions of marginalized communities.

Guilt-mongering is the “when all else fails” power language of dominance. It features self-as-victim, gaslighting, false equivalence and an “after all I’ve done for you” pitch, each of which is like a rock in a shoe, designed to nettle and disrupt the other’s concentration and sense of well-being. It manifests itself in endless legal appeals and slow-walking of valid processes, just enough to create doubt and suspicion. It is a favoured tool of those among the well-connected who lack a moral compass. It is also a favoured tool of those in the media whose primary concern is generating revenue, at the expense of morality.

We are seeing a slow, but inexorable, move towards persuasion and inclusion as preferred power languages. The futility of coercion, diminution and guilt-mongering is being seen by more and more people around the world, as their perceived value is recognized, more and more, as impermanent, ephemeral and of scant overall value. The language of power will, in time, become linked to the language of love.

The Tide

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March 20, 2020-

I awoke today to a sky that was mixed, in its promises for the day.  As it happened, clouds came and went, allowing a basically sunny day.  I spent much of the day reflecting on a piece that I had written in 1996, which my brother forwarded me, early this morning.

The day stayed mixed. I was not surprised to learn that work is delayed until April 13, at the earliest.  Swinging by Raven Cafe, one of my hangouts, I ordered delectable mushroom soup and a lamb burger with sweet potato fries, as a take-out meal.  Enjoying the soup, sitting outside, whilst watching the antics of a trio of dogs and talking with some of my mates, was arguably the high point of the day.  I took the lamb burger and SPF home, so as not to be a canine tormentor.  It tasted every bit at home,as it would have in public.

After catching up with my photo scanning project, on behalf of a longtime friend, I got a call to head out on a project for a revitalized Yavapai County Angels, delivering food boxes to an elder, picking up more supplies for further deliveries, over the next several days and visiting one of our local grocery stores, as my teammate was hoping against hope for paper products and loaves of bread to give to other elders.  I found three fresh-baked loaves (packaged loaves went the way of toilet paper and most other items.  These will go to some fortunate senior citizen.

The matter of the near future arose, as it always does of late.  There is an ominous feeling, among many of the people I encountered.  Everyone was rattled, to some extent or another, so I kept a low profile, though my saying that grocery stores were still open in states that were on lock-down provoked a furious response.

The tide is roiling.  We can perform random acts of kindness, as many are choosing to do, or we can sequester ourselves in racism and intolerance of any divergent opinions, as even some close to me are starting to do.  This is not a “Chinese” virus, or even an Asian virus, as the president and a few others keep claiming.  It is a worldwide threat, no matter who, or what malevolent force, unleashed it.  The whole of humanity has to move, in unison, to fight it.

I will continue to help in any way I can, for as long as my 69-year-old self is allowed, and as long as those who are committed to  forcing drastic measures, such as martial law, are not allowed to hold sway, we will make progress, acting as a community.

 

Fulfilling vs. Expedient

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November 11, 2019, Santa Monica-

A few days ago, back at Home Base, I found that some javelinas had knocked over a couple of neighbours’ trashcans.  Although it was early morning and I was in relaxation mode, there was the element of “We don’t have to live like this”, which has long been my mantra, with regard to tolerating a squalid environment.  I went outside and picked up the entire mess.

Jordan Peterson’s seventh rule for living is “Do what is fulfilling, instead of what is expedient”.  My mother never let us slide, when it was time to get a task, chore or school assignment done.  God knows, there were plenty of times when I would have loved to hang loose and slack off.  It is a blessing that I never got away with it.

Many times, people have said to me that I do things “the hard way”.  Mostly, if I do such things, it is so I can remember how to do them properly, the next time.  As for not being necessarily expedient, I have found that cutting corners almost always returns to haunt me.  It’s better to go the extra mile, the first time.

That is also the way of the veteran, whose service rarely, if ever, allowed for expediency.

 

The Road to 65, Mile 142: Chalk It Up, 2015

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April 19, 2015, Prescott- I spent about half the day in meetings and a couple of acts of service.  Still, my mind fell into a funk, because of the suffering endured by some dear families and because of various critics, both here and in the Phoenix area, whose venom keeps playing in my head, though I know it’s wrong of me to buy into their negativity.

Chalk It Up, an annual art festival here in Prescott, and associated with Earth Day, is the perfect mood lifter.  I present several of this year’s entries, without commentary, so that you might get some enjoyment out of the gallery, as well.

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With this  little tour, and a small dish of frozen yogurt, all the sorrow melted away.  It doesn’t take much.