One of these days, I'm going to post something meaningful; today, however, I'm going to kvetch about manners. Particularly when it comes to public speaking.
I was listening to a speech by Richard Rorty; it's quite interesting, and it made take a different view of his thought. (You too can listen here.) After giving the talk, Prof. Rorty took questions. One guy spent I-don't-know-how-many minutes spluttering out his question. I don't know how long it took him, because I was busy hanging laundry. But I know the question was too long, too complicated, or both, because Prof. Rorty himself was a little flummoxed. He handled it well, as expected, but it was an awkward moment. It happened again, with another questioner. What is with these guys?
Of all the things I've been accused of, meanness is not one of them. And anyone who knows me understands that I'm not a person to squash thought and inquiry. But I find myself increasingly impatient with this kind of inconsideration. It's like private and public spaces: let your own place be a pigsty if you must, but clean up after yourself when out and about. Take all the time you want when framing your thought in private, but when several people are involved at the same moment, you'd better get your question out and let the speaker field it so that others get their chance too.
If your thought is too complicated somehow to express concisely, perhaps it would be better handled in a paper - or an email, or article. That's one reason for the literature, folks, to keep a dialogue going. Complicated (or convoluted) thinking needs time to be straightened out. Don't waste anyone else's time.
The consideration of other people is a cornerstone of civilization, more so now than in years gone by. In less charitable moments like this, my mind moves to less charitable sentiments. Such as: If you forgo consideration of others, you forfeit consideration anyone should give to yourself. I'm not saying it's right.
How would I manage the situation? If I had the power, I would make a law requiring questioners to complete their thought in 20 seconds maximum. One question, 20 seconds tops. Anyone who goes overtime - whether they be professor, student, caterer, or me - would be immediately tased. At 21 seconds, bzzzzzzt! People would learn quickly, and it would liven up the scene. If somehow they evaded it, permission would be granted for a public beatdown - bystanders encouraged to join in.
What about speakers who go overtime? When delivering the talk proper, they too risk the buzz. Judging a lecture boring is too subjective; everybody can agree on time. Answering questions often takes longer than asking them, so I figure a minute is enough. Maybe two. Guest speakers should be given advance notice of the disciplinary practice, to avoid surprises. (Residents should know.) Now a taser might not be helpful - it's incapacitating. The speaker should remain cognizant to take other questions. And hey, they're guests; aren't we supposed to be hospitable? Sure we are, but still, we need to learn 'em. So I propose a Milgramesque solution: 40 volts for the first offense, 60 volts the second offense, and so on. Just imagine:
"OK, if you could please clip this microphone onto your lapel - right about there, yes. Thank you. Now for the electrodes..."
Yes, the irony is that Rorty was talking about his belief in moral progress; we do think we've made progress over the ancient Greek position on slavery, to take an example of his. True, and I'll generally go along with that. But don't you wonder sometimes - not always, but every now and then - don't you wonder if, on some fronts, we're being a bit too nice for our own good? OK, it's out of my system now.
(Image lovingly swiped from http://sheepoverboard.com/robots-heaven/index.php)
1 comment:
For many years, Mortimer Adler gave an annual lecture at St. John's, and, so we're told, always ran way over the allotted time.
Finally, some enterprising soul decided they had had enough.
They thus contrived to place an alarm clock in every window of the dorm across from the building where the lecture was to be given, each clock set for the exact time the lecture was supposed to end.
Adler took it well, by the way. And after that it became traditional to prank his lecture. So, there's your SJC lore for the day.
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