Power and Persuasion

Last Wednesday, my husband and I went to visit a marvellous exhibition at the British Library, entitled Propaganda: Power and Persuasion. It was divided into six sections: Origins, Nation, Enemy, War, Health, and Today. The three I found most interesting (and which between them formed the bulk of the exhibition) were Nation, Enemy and War. As the free leaflet explained, "Governments and national institutions are the most prolific and expert users of propaganda as they strive to validate and justify their actions, build support for their aims and influence the behaviour of populations." Most of the exhibits were posters, but these were interspersed with fascinating short videos explaining particular aspects of the propaganda game, by the likes of David Welch, Noam Chomsky and Alastair Campbell.

The tactics used in propaganda are very clever. They are set forth in the leaflet thus:

• Establish authority. Link a person or idea with existing symbols of power and authority, which people understand and are comfortable with.
• Exploit existing beliefs. People are much more receptive to messages that build on attitudes and beliefs they already hold dear.
• Appeal to patriotism. Play up nationalist sentiments and emphasise benefits to the nation.
• Create fear. In a state of fear your audience is more likely to believe you.
• Use humour. Making your audience smile or laugh can make powerful people, countries and ideas seem less threatening and even ridiculous.
• Imply everyone agrees. The desire to fit in is a strong one and many people will go along with the crowd.
• Disguise the source. Carefully plant stories and facts so that they come from an independent source your audience trusts.
• Hammer it home. Decide on your message and stick to it. ... Constant repetition will overcome initial scepticism.
• Make false connections. Start with an uncontested statement and link it with something more controversial.
• Be selective about the truth. Control how and when information is released. Ensure only stories that support your position are reported.
• Establish a leadership cult. Encourage the population to think their leader is solely responsible for all successes.

It was quite scary to see how well all governments have learned these lessons. The technique that I found particularly powerful was the combination of an innocuous or innocent picture with powerful words. In the War section of the exhibition, there was a series of Norman Rockwell pictures of wholesome Americans in various settings, combined with text that implored people to buy war bonds. I found this one particularly distasteful:


poster by Norman Rockwell

To link religion and supporting war in this way is just not on in my book. But there is no denying its power to persuade. Going to this exhibition has really opened my eyes to the huge range of propaganda, both in history and today. The power of social media to influence public opinion should not be underestimated. The last bit of the exhibition was a demonstration of how fast particular stories can spread via Twitter and Facebook. It's on until 17th September - highly recommended.

Thief of Time

I am District Secretary of the Midland Unitarian Association, and we had a meeting on Saturday, which was very good, and very rich, but generated a lot of minutes. And my job for today is to type those up, and to disseminate them, and to generate a to-do list from them.

And I've been putting it off. Some of the things I've been doing this morning were quite legitimate - going for a run, checking & dealing with e-mails, but I've spent an inordinate amount of time on Face book, and have even found myself cleaning the kitchen, just to avoid starting those minutes.

*sigh*

But at least when I became aware of what I was doing, it gave me the idea for this blogpost. One of my favourite quotes about time-wasting is "procrastination is the thief of time", so I went onto Google to find out who said / wrote it, and it was Edward Young.

However, on the website I looked it up on, there were a couple of other really splendid quotes about procrastination, one on the side of judgement, one on the side of mercy. The one by Pablo Picasso really frightened me:

"Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone."

 

Well, gosh, OK. I'll get on with them, I promise. Just as soon as I've finished this blogpost.

 

The other, by Denis Waitley, who is an American motivational speaker and writer, I found much more forgiving and soothing:

 

"Time is an equal opportunity employer. Each human being has exactly the same number of hours and minutes every day. Rich people can't buy more hours. Scientists can't invent new minutes. And you can't save time to spend it on another day. Even so, time is amazingly fair and forgiving. No matter how much time you've wasted in the past, you still have an entire tomorrow."

 

"You still have an entire tomorrow." Isn't that amazing?  And isn't it hopeful? Whatever we have done in the past, each new day is full of new possibilities and new hope. So I give thanks to God, who has given us Time in which to move and live and hope and dream.



Double Standards

As some of you who are Facebook friends will know, I have had a new tattoo - it is a Celtic tree of life and I am made up with it. The reactions of friends and family have been mixed - some think it is beautiful, or cool or other nice things, and some don't like tattoos at all.

The thing that I am finding interesting (and yes, a bit hurtful) is that the folk who don't like it have absolutely no hesitation in coming right out and saying so. This seems to be quite unapologetic too, and I'm sure they wouldn't make similarly rude remarks if I had changed my hairstyle (for instance). So why is it OK to make blunt and unpleasant comments about this particular aspect of someone's appearance? Is it because they consider tattoos to be "beyond the pale" and therefore fair game? I wonder ...

There was a quote posted on Facebook the other day, which read:

"The tongue has no bones, but is strong enough to break a heart. So be careful with your words."

I know that I am as guilty as the next person (in fact probably more guilty than some) of blurting out hurtful comments, or saying things in a hurtful tone. So maybe I should take being on the receiving end for a change as a bit of a wake-up call from God. I haven't enjoyed people being critical of me, so I need to remember to count to ten (at least!) before opening my mouth.

As my mother used to say to us when we were children: "If you can't think of anything nice to say, don't say anything." Thank you Mum.

Special Events

In the last couple of days, I have experienced two special events, both as a passive receiver of special-ness.



The first was watching, on Friday afternoon, the Djokovic / Del Potro men's semi-final at Wimbledon. I have watched Wimbledon every year since I was small, and cannot remember seeing another such match. Both men played exceptionally well, covering every inch of the court, and becoming involved in some amazingly long, exciting rallies. Even the commentators on the BBC were awestruck by the tennis that was being played. And both men seem to have realised that they were doing something special too. In the paper, yesterday, Djokovic commented: "I've had some epic matches and some long five-setters ... but I know that I have been pushed to the limit today. It was one of the most thrilling matches that I have ever played, especially here in Wimbledon. It was high-quality tennis from the first to the last point." And Del Potro commented "This match is going to be remembered for a few years." Yes, I think it will be.

Part of the pleasure of watching it for me was in having played tennis myself, as a girl, and therefore knowing quite how amazing some of the play was, in contrast to anything I could ever have done. It was a real pleasure to watch their expertise, and to relish the clever play.

And this was part of what I enjoyed about yesterday's event too - my husband and I joined 60+ other Unitarians from the Midlands and South Wales in a visit to the National History Museum in St. Fagan's, near Cardiff. It is a wonderful outdoor museum, which consists of fifty-odd houses and cottages, and a couple of churches (including Pen Rhiw Unitarian Chapel), which have been moved from their original locations all over Wales, and lovingly re-assembled on one site, to preserve Welsh architectural and way-of-life heritage. And it is splendid. We saw inside all sorts of buildings, from the medieval church which has been re-painted inside as it might have been back in the day, with bright instructive scenes from the life and passion of Jesus (see above), through Tudor and Georgian buildings, to a post-war pre-fab. But my favourite was a terrace of five houses, two-up, two-down, which had been refurbished in varying styles from the early 19th century to 1985, and you could walk into each one, noticing the changes - from paintings to photos, from hard wood, to soft furnishings and so on. It was fascinating.

What it had in common with Friday's tennis match was the loving care and expertise which lay behind the experience that I had come along and enjoyed. Both events were a tribute to the hard work and skill of the people involved. And the dedication, and the belief that what they are doing matters. And being aware of this lying behind both events made the pleasure keener.

Anticipation and Experience

We have just come back from a lovely holiday in Rome. We visited many of the most famous sites - the Colosseum, the Forum, St Peter's Square, the Sistine Chapel, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, and so on. The sun shone, the sky was a deep and vivid blue, and there was even a gentle breeze. And it was amazing to see these iconic buildings and sculptures in real life, having seen photos of them so often before.


And yet the things that enchanted me about the Imperial City were not what I had expected. Yes, standing in St. Peter's Square or in the Colosseum or among the ruins of the Forum did take my breath away, and all these things were truly impressive, and I'm really glad I've seen them. But what I really loved about Rome was strolling through the narrow streets of Trastavere, savouring the beauty of the buildings and the joy of coming out of a narrow street into a sunlit square with the inevitable little jewel of a local church, or wandering around the lively Campo de' Fiori, looking at all the wonderful flowers and foodstuffs, and trying to decide what to bring home as a souvenir, or sitting outside one of the many restaurants in the sunshine, just people-watching. And the wonderful food, and the statues on every corner. And having the time to talk about life, the universe and everything with our two children-no-longer-children, with us on holiday for probably the last time.

If you had asked me, before we left for Rome, what I was really looking forward to, I would have enumerated the sites I hoped to see, and how impressed I expected to be with it all. But anticipation and reality were very different. The enchantment was not in the magnificent, in the impressive, but in the vivid light, the mellow paint of the buildings, and the serendipity of wandering freely, open to what we might discover next.

Cultural Christianity

On the latest census form, there was a series of tick boxes for religious persuasion. Nearly 60% of the U.K. population ticked the "Christian" box, yet hardly anybody goes to church regularly, and most of the Christian denominations are bemoaning falling congregation numbers.

 

So who are all these people who call themselves Christians, but who don't attend Church (except at Christmas)? An answer was suggested on the Sunday programme on Radio 4 a while ago by a spokesman for the Secular Society. He called these people "Cultural Christians". They are a silent majority of this country, who aren't active churchgoers, and are not members of any other faith. Yet they call themselves Christians because they would sign up to what being a Christian in Britain means. To my mind this includes:

·         Going to Church at Christmas

·         Having a crib and/or other religious symbolism in the house at Christmas.
·         Expecting your child's school to have broadly Christian assemblies.
·         Subscribing to the broad ethics of Christianity as taught in schools - the Ten Commandments; the life and example of Jesus etc etc
·         Choosing to have broadly Christian life ceremonies i.e. having your children christened; getting married in church; having a minister at a family funeral.
·         Quite enjoying singing hymns and carols if you are ever in church.
·         Being familiar with Bible stories from both Old and New Testaments, in the same way that you know all the traditional fairy tales.
·         Listening to or watching "religious" programmes on radio or television (whether documentaries, religious services, films/stories or even just Thought for the Day)

This cultural heritage is very strong, and hasn't perhaps been realised as a force by the powers that be. Cultural Christians don't perceive the Christian institutions to be part of their everyday lives; almost certainly wouldn't sign up to the 39 Articles; and would probably have problems with the concepts of the Resurrection, the Trinity and the Virgin Birth.

BUT they want the Church to be there when they need it e.g. in a time of crisis or to commemorate significant events in their lives.

Is this an opportunity for Unitarians? Many of us could describe ourselves as cultural Christians (I certainly am one) but want so much more from our religion. We are a creedless faith, based on freedom of conscience, the use of reason, and tolerance of other people's views (so long as they do not harm others by them). We encourage people to think for themselves and to work out where they stand on religious and ethical issues. I wonder how many cultural Christians could come along to a Unitarian service, or to a Build Your Own Theology session, and find that they had come home?

 

Getting Your Priorities Sorted

When I logged onto Facebook today, there was a post from David Smith, member of the UK Unitarians group, with a quotation from whilom Apple Chief Executive, Steve Jobs. It said:

"If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?"

 

It stopped me in my tracks. My first response was "not exactly, I'd rather be spending time with the people I love", but then, I realised that I was also blessed to be doing a job that I love, and now, in the late afternoon, I have a feeling of accomplishment, as I've got done the things I needed to get done, and can now look forward to spending the evening with my family and friends.

 

 

But I do wonder, how many people are as lucky as I am? I appreciate how very privileged I am in my soft Western life, with enough food in the house, clean water to drink, a nice house, an abundance of belongings, and a reasonable amount of security. It also made me realise how important it is to ask the right questions about life, so that if it were to end today, I would have no (or few) regrets. How do you sort out what your priorities should be? I was reminded of the old story of the Professor and the golf balls, which has been doing the rounds on the internet for a long time (I truly do not know the original author, so cannot credit him or her):

 

"One morning a professor of philosophy stood in front of his class and wordlessly began to fill a very large and empty vase with golf balls.  He then asked the students if the vase was full.  They agreed that it was. 

 The professor picked up a box of tiny pebbles and tipped them into the vase.  He shook the vase lightly allowing the pebbles to roll into the open areas between the golf balls before asking the students if the vase was full.  They agreed it was. 

Next the professor poured a box of sand into the vase filling up all the remaining space and once more asked his class if the vase was full.  The students responded with a unanimous "yes."  

The professor then produced two glasses of wine from under the table and poured the entire contents into the vase, the students laughed.

"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this vase represents your life.  The 'golf balls' are the important things; your family, your children, your health, your friends and your passions.  In other words, all those things that if everything else was lost and if only they remained your life would still be full.

The 'pebbles' are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car, holidays, etc.  

The sand is everything else, all the small stuff.  

Now if you put the sand into the vase first," he continued, "there is no room for the 'pebbles' or the 'golf balls'.  The same goes for life.  If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are truly important to you.  So pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness, play with your children, take care of your health, make time for your friends and go out to dinner with your partner because there will always be time to clean the house and fix the car.  Set your priorities and take care of the 'golf balls' first for they are the things that really matter; all the rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and asked, "What does the wine represent?"  The professor smiled, "I'm glad you asked.  I was also showing you that no matter how full your life may seem there's always room for a couple of glasses of wine with a friend.""

 

Sorting out your priorities, your “golf balls”, can be a difficult task. As the professor said, they are “all those things that if everything else was lost and if only they remained your life would still be full.” But working out what it is you truly value can be hard, and people get it wrong. We’ve all heard of top business types who are so addicted to their work that they take their laptops and Blackberrys on holiday with them. To my mind, they are out of balance, and their health and family and social lives will suffer.

So how should we approach this most important task? Bill Adams, author of The Five Lessons of Life, passes on the following method from his teacher, Sangratan, the Amchi teacher from the Himalayas:

“Firstly, think of the things and people you value most. Give yourself plenty of time to do this, in an environment where you will not be disturbed.

Secondly, on a piece of paper, list all those things that you value most, and why you value them. Include such things as family, relationships, health, career, religion, hobbies.

Thirdly, try to number them in order of importance, beginning at 1.

Fourthly, examine your choices. Be honest with yourself. Consider the questions [that follow]:

• What do you spend most of your free time thinking about, or wishing for?
• What have you always wanted?
• What gives you most pleasure?
• What ways of behaving do you find most admirable?
• Are there things you enjoyed as a child which you were told to put away for the sake of a career or a relationship? If so, do you still value them?
• Whom do you admire most and why?
• What attributes do you most value?

When you have considered these questions, look again at the list of things you value. Is there a contradiction between your most important values and what you spend most of your life wishing, craving, wanting, or working for?”

 

Of course, our priorities will change during the course of our lives, so this is not a once-for-all exercise. But doing it, and trying to put it into practice in our lives, might mean that we could answer Steve Jobs' question with a "yes".