The U.S. senator and onetime prisoner of war John McCain defined courage as a brief, singular occurrence: “that rare moment of unity between conscience, fear, and action, when something deep within us strikes the flint of love, of honor, of duty, to make the spark that fires our resolve.”
This definition conjures up an image of the lone hero who—instinctively, spontaneously, and against all odds—suddenly takes charge and stands up for virtue. Courage is often that.
As I wrote in the Harvard Business Review, however, courage is more often a considered calculation. It is a skill developed and applied by exceptional people to protect what they, and often those they represent, hold dear. It is a vehicle of virtue that can’t be driven by the faint of heart.
Today we’ll likely watch as U.S. congressional representatives and senators ignore this kind of courage. Those who do so will put in jeopardy democracy as we’ve known it. They’ll demonstrate their fealty, not to the U.S. Constitution which they took an oath to protect, but to a man, a cult of heinous personality, who has repeatedly demonstrated that in his mind the only “virtue” is loyalty to Donald Trump. These people will squander their precious option to lead with honor, to be courageous, and replace it with dangerous obsequiousness and selfishness.
We will see, too, if a vice president who has given Donald Trump his utmost loyalty, enabling nefarious narcissism at every turn, will defile the office of vice president. Will Mike Pence call into question Electoral College vote tallies – attempting to overturn the will of the people and keep President Trump and himself in office? If so, we’ll witness, like the rarest of comets passing precariously close to earth, a violation of high oath and office, the antithesis of courage, and a clear profile in cowardice.
Early on in the pandemic, we were told by medical experts that masks help protect others, rather than the wearer, from Covid-19. It was assumed that empathy for the wellbeing of others would trump motivations to avoid masks. We learned that there are influencers more powerful than empathy for a sizable segment of the population.
We’re about to embark on another coronavirus challenge requiring effective persuasion. In order to avoid missing the mark when encouraging people to take a coronavirus vaccination, we need to truly know what matters to them. How they should think is not nearly as important as how they do think.
The Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment, where African American sharecroppers from Macon, Alabama were heartlessly used by researchers to observe the effects of untreated syphilis, is often cited as a reason for the higher distrust of coronavirus vaccines in Black communities. If asked, though, would this be the primary reason given in such communities for vaccine resistance? Can we afford to assume again?
Persuasion research suggests people respond to one or more of three general categories of reasoning when considering a new course of action: Appropriateness, Consistency and/or Effectiveness (ACE). Appropriateness is the extent to which an action is approved of by important others. An appeal to appropriateness might be “Everyone in our group is going to do this, so you should too.” Seeing respected leaders and role models happily take a coronavirus vaccine can also fall into this category.
Consistency appeals focus on acting in a way consistent with self-image or prior behavior. If a person considers herself intelligent, then an appeal such as “Someone as smart and informed as you must be getting the vaccination” could get their attention. So, too, could pointing out that they’ve always been health conscious or that they put family first.
Effectiveness appeals focus on desired outcomes. “If you want to safely hug your grandchildren, you should be vaccinated” is one example. “Leading coronavirus experts attest to the vaccine’s effectiveness and safety.”
People differ with regard to how much they care about the opinions of others, toleration of inconsistency, and goal priorities. To use the ACE formulation productively, health communication experts need to familiarize themselves with vaccine resistant populations and the true reasons for their concerns.
Then there is emotion. Some groups are fearful of the coronavirus vaccines. As a result, they may deny the lethality of Covid-19. If so, then appropriateness, consistency and effectiveness appeals could fall on deaf ears. Instead, the focus would initially need to be on dispelling fear.
Those who identify as staunchly opposed to vaccines of any sort pose a particular persuasion challenge. They may be unreachable by reason or emotion. Some may have heard or read about the UK warning that people with significant allergies should not take the vaccine and recent U.S. cases of adverse reactions. Here again we need experts on the ground learning why groups of people reject vaccines. Having had one of my three children turn red and swell up after his first DPT shot, I can sympathize with vaccine hesitancy. Respect for concerns and fears, finding some justifiable, is critical to any hope of dispelling them.
For now, the persuasive appeals most likely to succeed with specific populations are best determined by public health experts who live or work among them. Such ear-to-the-ground research will help determine which appeal or combination of appeals is likely to be most influential. Otherwise, we rely on risky assumptions likely to fail, delay or even derail the goal of one day soon returning precious normalcy to our lives.
People never called me “Doctor” or “Professor” when I was coaching children’s t-ball, softball or Little League – with the rare exception of “Hey Doc, catch this one!” My friends and family don’t start texts with “Doctor Reardon” or ask when I pick up the phone: “Is this Doctor Reardon?” But when I’m introduced at a professional event, at a dinner afterward or on any number of occasions, the title is often used. I might follow with, “Please call me Kathleen.” I might not. It’s a call you learn to make and it has nothing to do with snobbery.
I’m sure Jill Biden’s family members don’t greet her with “Doctor Biden” before they hug her. Neither do mine. Like all things, there’s a time and a place. But Jill Biden is a public figure. When she is introduced in public venues, people extend her the courtesy of using her well-earned title. My friend who is a general doesn’t expect me to greet her with other than her first name. But were I to introduce her to a gathering, her impressive military title would not be omitted.
Yet, here we are having to deal with whether the soon-to-be First Lady deserves to be introduced as Dr. Biden. Personally, I’m all for calling her “First Doc.” It has a nice ring. An article published in the Wall Street Journal sarcastically seeks to cast aspersions on Biden for allowing others to address her as Dr. Biden. As if she should club them if they do.
I wrote a scene in my latest crime mystery, Damned If She Does, where a male detective snickers when lead character, Shamus Doherty, refers proudly to his professor sister as “Doctor Doherty.” I didn’t think that up out of thin air. I’ve seen that snicker and I’m not alone.
I could go on about this, but it’s just more of the same written by more of the same. When women no longer need to choose between being seen as likable or accomplished, we won’t have to read or learn about pathetic attempts to demean us for sport. When will it get old? You have to wonder.
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Cynthia Brian on Voice of America. Cynthia is a dynamic author and actor as well as an enthusiastic gardener. It was delightful to be on her show, Star Style, and to reach out across the miles to friends and mystery lovers around the world. If you have a few minutes, you’ll find the interview at 17:50 minutes into the show at this online link.
There’s an emptiness about the heart at the passing of people who alter your life. Such is the feeling today knowing that U.S. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is no longer with us. She became an icon, yet so much more. She cared deeply for people and for the fairness with which she insisted they be treated. Ginsburg was, as Chief Justice Roberts described her, “a tireless and resolute champion of justice.”
In 1963, Ginsburg landed a teaching job at Rutgers Law School, where she hid her second pregnancy by wearing her mother-in-law’s clothes.
It was as a law professor at Rutgers that she continued her work fighting gender discrimination. Academia, after all, was not and still is not free of it. Ginsburg cut her teeth, so to speak, altering that condition. After that, she never stopped seeking gender equality.
Having walked that path inside and outside of academia, I know many of the challenges she faced and admire her all the more for taking them on. Soft spoken but tenacious, capable of picking her battles and a fighter to the end, RBG altered the lives of women for the better. The hearts of so many of us sink today. But tomorrow, as she did after losses in her own life, we will remember, smile with gratitude, and push on.
As if we didn’t see enough of this cheap disparagement of a female opponent in 2016, Trump is at it again. Now, he’s accusing vice presidential candidate Kamala Harris of not being liked – by anyone.
It’s not his only line of attack. He’s throwing out something for every member of his base, including that it would be an insult – an insult – to the U.S. were Harris to become the first female president. Misogyny and racism tucked into one. Why else would a presidential candidate target a vice presidential candidate? Isn’t that Mike Pence’s job?
It comes as no surprise that Trump goes pathetically low like this. He’d be glad to have us all get up in arms. He’d take it as having poked the bear and won. So, how should the Biden/Harris campaign respond?
In They Don’t Get It, Do They? I wrote about verbal sparring. A male business executive shared with me that “Women need to guard against the guy who feels trapped, so he switches to sexual put downs to win. He knows that the woman isn’t likely to resort to the same. It’s not worth sparring with that kind of guy.”
This is reminiscent of Michelle Obama’s motto: “When they go low, we go high.” In general, I agree. If a response is needed, though, here’s one that doesn’t stoop: Smile, remain calm, and say: “I see you got desperate, substituted crass for clever,” laugh a little, and bring the whole thing to a close.
It doesn’t pay to respond by showing how many people like Harris. That just lends credence to the attack – grants it more media coverage. “Hey DJT: Is that all you’ve got?” is an option. It would make a good t-shirt. Or maybe a jacket like Melania wore with a huge laughing emoji.
That’s the kind of dismissive verbal sparring that can be used when Trump goes low. Cads hate being the target of a joke. I don’t recommend it for Harris. But the rest of us have the option. No use dignifying Trump’s sexist low blows. Better to make him squirm.
My heart and respect go out to Dr. Aoibhinn Ní Shúilleabháin – broadcaster, lecturer at University College Dublin who dealt with years of sexual harassment on campus. As those of you who stop by here regularly know, I’ve written often on the subject of sexual misconduct, including a Harvard Business Review article describing the Spectrum of Sexual Misconduct to help businesses, government, academia, groups and individuals define levels of sexual misconduct, particularly as it pertains to women as the target.
Despite much writing on this subject and the MeToo movement, systems often don’t effectively respond. Women are told speaking up will ruin their careers, they’ll be labeled for life or the process will be a hassle they don’t need. There can be costs. But there are even greater costs to letting sexual harassment and abuse continue.
Some years back, I wrote the Harvard Business Review reprint bestseller case, “The Memo Every Woman Keeps In Her Desk” followed by They Don’t Get It, Do They? Both focused on what women can do to deal with sexual harassment. Other articles followed as did two novels, Shadow Campus (2013) and Damned If She Does (2020). These crime mysteries reveal what happens in academia. Yes, they’re fiction, but informed by reality.
The Irish Times conveys Ní Shúilleabháin’s views on the need for attention to this problem in academia:
Today, Ní Shúilleabháin says that while there is growing awareness regarding harassment and other issues for students on campuses, “we also need to make sure those same supports are there for staff, and particularly early-career researchers. Those are the people who are on precarious contracts, temporary contracts, who are maybe doing a post-doc which is one or two years, who might be very afraid to rock the boat because it will impact, potentially, on them getting another contract.
“That’s why I wanted to talk about it. The first thing we need to do is recognise that it’s a problem, and after that we need to look at what are the many ways we can address it.
“I’m not saying that I’m going to change the system. There’s a lot of people working on that. But I actually just think being more open about it and speaking about these incidents is really important because we have to stop sweeping them under the carpet. That carpet is getting very, very bulgy now.”
Ní Shúilleabháin spoke up repeatedly. For that, women in academia are surely thankful. Her experience is shared by many female academics. It’s promising to see Minister for Higher Education Simon Harris responding to Ní Shúilleabháin’s courage with a clear directive to university presidents that there will be zero tolerance for sexual misconduct.
What happened to Ní Shúilleabháin could have gone even further — to assault — as it does in Damned If She Does. She feared for her safety and fortunately kept speaking up. The rest of us need to be equally courageous, especially to protect young women who can be quietly edged out of academia unless more senior academics, female and male, refuse to let that happen.
As MeToo slides from intense focus to history, we risk sexual misconduct offenders creeping from their hiding places to harm again. Media attention has moved on to the coronavirus and other pressing issues. Fortunately, we have a force for change that remains – fiction and nonfiction authors who don’t let us simply move on.
Know My Name: A Memoir by Chanel Miller is a New York Times bestseller, a New York Times Book Review Notable Book, and a National Book Critics Circle Award winner. The author takes us on a real-life, arduous journey – post sexual assault. She didn’t have to invite us into her world, but she did and we’re better for it. She shares the day-by-day recovery process with a rare honesty that draws the reader in, accompanying Miller, seeing through her eyes, feeling her pain.
Miller’s assault went public. She had no choice when passers-by interrupted the Stanford University campus attack on her nonconscious body. Police were called. The press became involved. For a while, she tried to stay quiet – not an uncommon reaction. She moved to another state for the summer, but even that didn’t protect her from intrusions.
In one chapter, she describes male strangers who feel entitled to harass her on walks to and from a printmaking class. Why, she wonders, do they get to do that? If her boyfriend were with her this would not happen. He could walk alone on this route. We feel her anger and indignation. Yet, in defiance, she continues to walk. Why should she have to give up what she enjoys?
Miller notices a campus poster reporting that approximately one in four women are sexually abused. It depicts a number of figures like those on female restrooms, every forth one colored red – a victim like herself. She turns and sees young women crossing a quad. One in four of them will be metaphorically red someday. Clearly, sexual abuse is not going away.
Miller writes about what happened to her in real life. While I’ve researched and written about sexual misconduct, I also turned to fiction as a vehicle of change. My debut crime mystery, Shadow Campus, tackles toxic cultures for women. In the sequel, Damned If She Does, a young professor, Meg Doherty, keeps her assault secret for six years – even from her family. She pulls back from much of life for some time, like Miller, piecing together who she’d become – to rebuild – only to have that work dismantled time and again.
Meg envisions lecturing, her students thinking about what she’d endured – questions in their minds: Had she put herself in a bad situation? Was she partially to blame? Did she dress provocatively? Shouldn’t she have done something differently?
Both Miller and Meg wonder if they’ll ever be seen outside the confining box of rape? As happened in reality to Miller, would their attackers pay with a short prison sentence, if any? Who would be by their side in court and in life? Where do women go for help?
Assaults on women are still shockingly high. Domestic violence has increased during the coronavirus. We can’t afford to let the MeToo movement become a flash-in-the-pan. While far more the exception than the rule, “manosphere” online groups characterized by anti-female disdain and some committed to punitive actions need to be watched and written about.
If you’re a writer and think the time has passed for writing about sexual harassment and abuse, think again. We need you.
I used to wonder if nonfiction could viscerally convey the enduring costs to victims of sexual assault. Know My Name is not a dry report – far from it. Miller shares a true story told beautifully, candidly and in a manner you won’t soon forget. Crucially, she has not let the door close on sexual abuse because other issues have naturally taken precedence. Perhaps one day that will be her greatest contribution.
*Damned If She Does has been selected by Kirkus Reviews for their September 2020 announcement of “Great Indie Books Worth Discovering.”
Continuing the introduction of authors who’ve published during the coronavirus pandemic, I’m delighted to introduce Linda Rosen. Stop by my visiting authors page here and learn more about Linda’s intriguing new novel.
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