Guns and Power

An illustration of guns and power: a man holds a gun, with more guns on a table nearbyI grew up in England where “access by the general public to firearms is subject to some of the strictest control measures in the world.” When I moved to the United States in 1977, I didn’t realize I had chosen to live in a country where guns and power are inextricably entwined.

I’ve only fired a gun once in my life. Hiking in former Czechoslovakia in the ’60s, I met a farmer who asked if I’d like to fire his shotgun. Standing in the middle of his field, I braced the gun against my shoulder, pointed it at the sky, and fired. The blast was deafening and my shoulder hurt.

The experience did not impress me. I had no desire ever to fire a gun again.

Guns in the United States

Although a majority of United States households don’t own guns, a substantial minority do.

Owning guns is far more common in the U.S. than in any other country; there are more guns in private hands than people to hold them. The average U.S. gun owner has five guns, and about a third of all the civilian guns in the world are in the hands of Americans.

Guns and power-over

As children, we necessarily submit to power-over: the power of our parents and school. As we grow into adulthood, most cultures expect us to become more independent and possess our own power.

Unfortunately, for a host of reasons, many people fail to come into their own power. I, for example, grew up in an environment that relentlessly shamed me for making mistakes. I learned that I could only feel powerful if I did everything perfectly. It has taken decades for me to unlearn this false teaching, and work to learn who I actually am and be myself.

When we fail to come into our own power, we fear not being in control. One way to lessen this fear is to own guns as a substitute for one’s personal power.

“…most research comparing gun owners to non-gun owners suggests that ownership is rooted in fear…
Joseph M. Pierre, Nature, The psychology of guns: risk, fear, and motivated reasoning

In the United States, gun manufacturers who “position their products as totems of manhood and symbols of white male identity” use such fear to sell guns. Here’s an ad for the Tavor semiautomatic rifle that claims the gun will restore the “balance of power” for men who own it.

guns and power
Advertisement in July 2013 American Rifleman

Obviously, guns have legitimate uses for hunting, and I have the privilege of living in a part of the world where it’s unlikely that someone will attack me while living my life. However, the high incidence of gun ownership by privileged U.S. citizens owes a lot to the dysfunctional fear of not being in control.

Even though the reality is that no one ever actually has control, just the myth of control.

Power and pleasure

Some people, mainly men in my experience, enjoy firing guns. When asked why they typically say it’s fun or they enjoy the challenge to get good at it (see, e.g. this Quora thread).

This challenge I kind of get. Though I think there are much more interesting and useful challenges to take on than getting better at knocking something over or blowing it apart from a distance.

It’s the fun part I don’t understand.

The closest I’ve come to enjoying a powerful machine is the time I drove a race car in Abu Dhabi.

Driving a race car

Me, right after driving this race car.

I had fun!

I’m cautious about trying to “explain” why driving the Jaguar for twenty minutes felt so exciting. But I think it was because my race car experience was an exaggerated version of something I do daily which is pretty miraculous — drive a car.

I couldn’t live in rural Marlboro without a car. (Here’s an account of what Vermont white settlers — who had horses at least — had to do two centuries ago to survive.) Although there are no stores in Marlboro, I can drive to nearby stores in twenty minutes. That’s a journey that in the past would have been a day’s outing in good weather. Driving is really cool.

Driving the race car took my daily driving to a whole new level. I drove faster than I’ve ever driven in my life. The race track was perfectly smooth, and the Jaguar was incredibly responsive. It wasn’t a useful experience, but it gave me a whole new and improved (sensation-wise) experience of something familiar.

Nevertheless, I have no significant desire to drive a race car again. (Though I think I’d do it if someone offered me the opportunity with no effort on my part, as happened in Abu Dhabi, that’s not likely to happen!)

Race cars versus guns

Guns are also powerful machines. But, unless you hunt for a living, there’s no analogous daily experience to shooting modern guns, which have been designed over the years to become more powerful (aka deadlier).

So why is shooting a gun “fun”? The men who say this seem to assume it’s obvious. I’ll close these musings by wondering if their desire to shoot guns arises from fear of not being in control in a United States culture that links masculinity to the wielding of power.

The first hill is the hardest

The first hill is the hardest: a photograph of a man running on a flat country dirt road. Photo attribution: Jenny Hill jennyhill [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

At the age of 65, after returning from a meditation retreat, I started running daily for the first time in my life. And I soon learned that the first hill is the hardest.

Beginnings

It was summer, and I had no idea what I could do. So I began by exploring without expectations. I dressed in my regular sneakers, some shorts, and a tee shirt. I live in a rural town with 60 miles of dirt roads, so I ran out of my home and down the 600′ driveway. Wanting exercise, I turned left on the town road and started up the hill. Way before the top I was out of breath, so I slowed to a walk until I got to the top. I ran down some of the other side, decided that was enough for the first day, and turned around and retraced my path. I had to walk up most of my driveway.

The total run and walk was a mere mile.

I wondered if I’d ever be able to do better than that.

What happened

Each day I tried to run a little more, always slowing to a walk when needed. I began to go a little further, and eventually settled on a pretty route, all on dirt roads, with three hills to climb on the way. The distance is a little over two miles, with a 340 feet elevation change.

first hill is the hardestI still remember the day, several months after I started, when I ran the whole route.

I’ve been running it ever since.

It gets easier

As I write this, I have been running for five months. I continue to be surprised how my daily run slowly continues to become easier. I’m not trying to run my route faster, but occasionally I notice I’m taking a little less time on average. We’re approaching winter now, and I’ve purchased the usual runner’s accessories: nanospikes for running safely on ice, an orange vest for hunting season, running tights, a cycling jacket, and a balaclava and warm mittens for those single-digit days. I’m concerned about injuring myself. So I work to notice how my joints and muscles are feeling, not hesitating to slow down or even cut the run short if I have any concerns.

Apart from a handful of times when I’ve needed to get up early for a long plane flight and had no opportunity to run during the day, my run has become a daily practice wherever I am.

I feel great about that.

The first hill is the hardest

I haven’t experienced “runner’s high” and I’m not addicted to running. There are still some days when I’m reluctant to go out, because, after an easy lope down the driveway, the first hill is the hardest! When I start climbing it my body isn’t fully warmed up, and there are moments when I look up and realize there’s still a long trek (from my novice runner’s perspective) to the top.

And then I’m at the top, and I have a long descent to my turnaround point. Even though the first leg of the return is long and steep, it seems easier. I’m warmed up. I’ve run over half my route.

There’s no need to hurry.

Overcoming fear and improving with practice

How my running practice has developed reminds me of my changed attitude to public speaking. Decades ago, when I started addressing groups of people, I felt terrified. Just like my running, my first appearances were the worst.

Today, I regularly speak in front of hundreds or thousands of people, and feel, at most, nervous excitement. As with my running practice, hundreds of speaking gigs have changed my attitude and ability to put myself out in front of many people without worrying about what “mistakes” I might make or what might happen.

And, just like my running, I feel that excitement as I begin. The first hill is still the hardest. But once I start, I’m into the flow of the event and the worst is over.

Photo attribution: Jenny Hill jennyhill [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

When a guy brings bagpipes to your event

photograph of a surprised woman by Flickr user beta-j

What happens when a guy brings bagpipes to your event?

“My full-day live seminars have impact on people partly because I don’t announce the specific agenda or the talking points in advance. It’s live and it’s alive. I have no certainty what’s about to happen, and neither do the others in the room. A morphing, changing commitment by all involved, one that grows over time.”
The Show Me State (of the art), Seth Godin

I run conferences and sessions like Seth’s. I don’t really know what’s going to happen and neither do the participants. Yes, I have an overall structure in mind, but there’s always room for an impromptu performance by the guy who just happens to have brought a set of bagpipes (that was edACCESS 2011, I think), and the unexpected sessions on sea kayaking (Fixing Food Oregon 2009) and Spiritual Leadership (last week at the VLN 1st annual conference).

bagpipes eventIt’s not only the unexpected topics and activities that it turns out people want and get but also the serendipitous connections that get made. One of the things I feel best about? The lifelong friendships between seemingly unlikely souls, sparked by events I’ve had a hand in. You can’t put a price on that.

So why do most events still insist on trumpeting precise program schedules? We do, of course, go to such sessions hoping to learn something new. And perhaps something surprising will happen. Sadly, we often don’t learn much and are rarely surprised.

Why set up the majority of events this way? I’ve written about this here and more extensively in (free download) Chapter 3 of Conferences That Work: Creating Events That People Love, but another reason is that most of us are fearful of trying something new if we think we might fail at it. I’m no exception. I’ve lived with this fear most of my life. (Apart from my early years, when this fear is largely absent in everyone.) Only in the last dozen years or so have I begun to rediscover the joy of the adventures that begin when I say “Yes” to what life offers me.

What frustrates me is that most people who experience events designed to accommodate and support the unexpected discover they prefer them. But until they take a chance and attend one, they’ll never know what they’re missing.

Viv McWaters and Johnnie Moore call the need to know what something will be like before you commit to it “the tyranny of the explicit“. Need more information before you act? Stuck! Viv quotes Keith Johnstone“Those who say ‘Yes’ are rewarded by the adventures they have, and those who say ‘No’ are rewarded by the safety they attain.”

When you say “No” you’re safe (unless it’s an emergency.) But you’ll miss out on the learning and delight that is the constant companion of the unexpected.

Ultimately, it’s your choice.

On balance, I’m glad that my events are pretty open to the unexpected. Otherwise, the guy who brought bagpipes to my conference would have just left them in the trunk of his car. Let the hornpipe begin!

Photo attribution: Flickr user beta-j

Fear of change at the fork in the road

Fear of change: photograph of a fork in the road in the woods. Image attribution https://www.flickr.com/photos/raptortheangel/624151138

Fear of change

Opportunities that can change our lives in amazing ways surround us. These opportunities come in the form of a choice between continuing with what we are already doing and doing something different. Think of them as forks in the road.

Many notice these opportunities.

Few act on them.

Why? Here’s the indomitable Seth Godin (who is really good at making new choices):

The fork in the road offers only two difficulties…

Seeing it.

and

Taking it

Most organizations that stumble fail to do either one. The good news is that there are far more people than ever pointing out the forks that are open to us. The “this” or “that” alternatives that each lead to success if we’re gutsy enough to take one or the other.

Alas, taking the fork is even more difficult than seeing it.
—Seth Godin, The fork in the road offers only two difficulties…

Why is taking the fork so hard?

Taking the fork is hard because we fear change. Venturing into the unknown scares us. Perhaps we are scared of what might happen if we fail, or of feeling embarrassed. We may even be scared of what might happen if we succeed!

Change potentially threatens the way we see the world and when we confront circumstances that are inconsistent with our worldview, we’re likely to feel stress. How many people do you know who enjoy extra stress in their life?

Change is also potentially associated with loss. Loss, for example, of all the time and effort we’ve expended learning how to do something a particular way.  How many people do you know who enjoy loss?

The reality of this extra stress and loss is a hard obstacle to overcome—and it must be dealt with in order for you to take the fork.

So how can we do better at choosing a new path?

Here are three steps.

First, notice how you’re feeling about taking the fork. If you’re oblivious to how you feel about a change, your emotions will likely determine your actions. When fear is the dominant emotion, you are unlikely to take the fork. If you do take the fork without awareness of the associated stress and loss, they will ambush you later, usually when their effects have built to dangerous levels.

Second, express how you’re feeling about taking the fork. I find that sharing my feelings with someone I trust is the best way to do this, though some people prefer to journal privately about the emotions that taking the fork brings up. Processing how you are feeling helps you work through your emotions and integrate the new path into a feasible personal future.

Third, take the fork! Like most things in life, practice makes taking the fork easier. When you feel those butterflies in your stomach it’s easier to make the scary choice when you’ve felt them a hundred times before and, most of those times, things turned out alright. There will always be more forks, and the more frequently you take them, the easier it’ll be to take the next one. Robert Frost “took the one less traveled by/And that has made all the difference.” Follow his footsteps!

Photo attribution: Flickr user raptortheangel

How do you facilitate change? In this occasional series, we explore various aspects of facilitating individual and group change.

Changing how we come together at events

We need to change how attendees come together at events.

come together at events: a photograph of a traditional conference. A sea of attendees sit facing toward a distant standing speaker.
“…if we do not change the way citizens come together, if we do not shift the context under which we gather and do not change the methodology of our gatherings, then we will have to keep waiting for great leaders, and we will never step up to the power and accountability that is within our grasp.”
—Peter Block, Community: The Structure of Belonging

A stirring quote from Peter Block, from a chapter titled The Stuck Community in his book Community: The Structure of Belonging.

Change citizens to conference attendees and you have a good description of what continues to happen at traditional conferences, where attendees listen to session leaders, rather than collectively reaping the benefits of co-creating an event and associated community.

That’s why we need to change how attendees come together at events.

Leadership, conferences, and freedom

Leadership at conferences: A poster illustrated with a Lego figure holding a red flag. The poster reads "LEADERSHIP When in doubt, wave a flag"

“[There are] almost as many definitions of leadership as there are persons who have attempted to define the concept.”
—Ralph Stogdill, Handbook of Leadership: A survey of theory and research (1974, p.259)

I’m not going to add to the thousands of existing definitions of leadership. I believe that defining what leadership is—essentially, process that influences others to accomplish something—misses the point. What we need to understand first, is the purpose of leadership. Once we’ve decided that, we can think about what leadership qualities we need to carry out that purpose.

The task of leadership

Here’s the wonderful Peter Block musing in a recent book:

“…perhaps the real task of leadership is to confront people with their freedom.”
—Peter Block, Community: The Structure of Belonging

I love this expression of leadership mission.

Too often our vision of leadership is clouded and restricted by 19th-century ideas of leadership, emphasizing autocratic, bureaucratic, and charismatic leadership styles that are still commonly held up for us as models of what leadership is about. Even though more enlightened leadership models (e.g. servant and transformational styles) are becoming more widely used, there’s still a tendency to revert to the old models in some situations.

Leadership at conferences

For example, how do we treat conference attendees?

At most conferences, attendees have very little say in what happens. The event revolves around a set of limited preselected session choices made by the conference leadership. Such an event culture implies a default passivity. Organizers, not attendees, make decisions—organizers who are, perhaps unknowingly, using leadership styles more appropriate for young children.

It’s perfectly possible, however, to offer freedom to conference participants. Unconference designs provide structure and support for participants to determine what they want to learn, share, and discuss. Participants are then free to make the event their own.

Most of us who are asked to try something new feel a natural reluctance or wariness. First-time attendees at an unconference often feel apprehensive about the prospect of taking a more active role. That’s why Peter’s phrasing confront people with their freedom is appropriate. Unconferences offer an environment that gently confronts attendees with their power to influence what happens. In my experience, once attendees experience what it is like to have a real voice in shaping their event, the vast majority of them embrace this new freedom.

What do you think of Peter Block’s musing on the real task of leadership?

Photo by Flickr user Dunechaser.