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“You’re not the boss of me!” It was certainly not a declaration I heard in my childhood. And just as certainly it was not a phrase or concept that we taught our children. Yet both seem to be relatively common in today’s world. It can be encountered when you come across a child - oh, say somewhere north of 4 but not yet ten - engaged in a questionable activity like playing “dodge ‘em” on the freeway, or setting fire to the neighbor’s cat.
“Hey!” you say, “Cut that out!”
The little darling, or mini-mafioso, places his or her hands on hips, glares at you and declares, “You’re not the boss of me!” Or the slightly more expanded version, “You’re not my parent, so I don’t have to do what you say!” Realizing that in the current permissive society you could wind up behind bars for swatting the brat on the butt, you refrain from doing so since the mini-mafioso might well be being encouraged by parents of the maxi-mafioso variety whose understanding of “Stand your Ground” might extend to “Kill the cat that pees on the begonias.” Besides, you know you are supposed to get down on brat level, look same in the eyes, and say something like:
“Use your big words and your indoor voice and tell me why you want to kill the nice kitty.”
I’m not really sure when or how this enabling of childhood incivility began. I assume it was initially a well-intentioned response to the archaic notion of “spare the rod and spoil the child.” But as is often the case, well-intentioned policies can have unintended results. One such result of the “You’re not the boss of me” meme is the implication that the “boss” is entitled to tell us what to do; the “my way or the highway”- the MYOTH - style of organization or management.
So it is not unreasonable to follow this “MWOTH” notion into a strategy in adolescence and adult life where one seeks to become the BOSS, the one who gets to tell everyone else what to do. “Success" comes to mean acquiring power. It is a mindset in direct opposition to the first and dominant tenet of Distilled Harmony: Foster Harmony.
We see the negative effects of MYOTH all around us. On one level it doesn’t really matter if you are CEO of a major corporation, the president of a university, President of the PTSA, or President of the USA - power corrupts, and as the 1st Baron Acton put it “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Hence it is disheartening to realize that the path to success in contemporary culture can also be the path to corruption. There is, no doubt, a world of possible discussion there: Is it possible to rise to power in an organization or a nation and remain free of corruption? Is the current MeToo! movement a confrontation of power or an accumulation of power by new group equally at risk of corruption? Interesting issues, but not where I want to go right now.
I started this post with an observation of children. I would like to close it with an exploration of their grandparents, or of people at least old enough to be grandparents. Here is the paradox: seniors, as we now call old people - and among whom, at a few days shy of 71, I strangely find myself - have a nuanced view of “bosses” and MYOTH. We have either been bosses or have had a lifetime of watching other bosses do it wrong. Completing the paradox, at least for those of us who are retired - or again like myself, just a few months shy of that state - we no longer have anyone to boss. “My Way” no longer commands a view of “The Highway.” So we try to boss each other.
Eavesdrop on a table of seniors, or listen to the conversations around you if you are “of a certain age.” It is a silver-haired debating society. Each of them - or each of us - is busy advocating a specific approach to the issue at hand, whether it be the President of the USA, or the President of the Condo Board, the best diet to control diabetes, or the best way to combat roaches seeking indoor shelter in the winter months - each speaker has “truth.” It is not that any of the various “truths" presented are necessarily data free or “wrong.” But they are truths constructed from the memoirs I defined in the previous post. “Truths distilled and constructed from experience remembered,” truths that “when I was boss” could simply be stated to “those of whom we were boss” and were then accepted. But now we boss no one and are bossed by no one. So the “debate” is usually “won” by the person who can talk uninterruptedly and at a vocal level that simply overwhelms the competition. It is a form of interaction that is often depressing and rarely reaches a productive conclusion.
It is also a form of interaction that is, as mentioned earlier in this post, in direct conflict with the first tenet of Distilled Harmony: Foster Harmony. It is relatively easy to rail against the “ignorant other.” It is more difficult to try to understand how the “other" came to possess a version of the truth that, to you, is obvious lunacy. More difficult still is the ability to see past this particular area of disagreement to Harmony.
One option is to focus on the notion of the musical chord - since that is the fundamental element upon which Foster Harmony rests. I find it helpful to consider an orchestra or a choir. As an audience member, regardless of our own expertise, we usually know when something sounds “right” and when it doesn’t. A soft violin passage is interrupted by a clash of brass. The discordancy may be intentional, but it is nonetheless discordant. And, of course, there is the ultimately discordant moment when an instrument or voice pops in fortissimo, but just a couple of beats too soon. A meeting of the silver-haired debating society, or any conversation that turns competitive for that matter, can be seen as a musical composition. To defuse the various discordant attempts to become “boss”of the interaction we need to make a conscious effort to bring harmonious notes to the conversation. Rather than jumping in to “correct" another voice, or to demonstrate how we had an even better example of the issue under consideration, we should try, “That’s fascinating. What happened then?” or “That’s right! I had a similar experience, but not quite that powerful.” We don’t need to always play the solo. Often the chord becomes richer, the path to Harmony smoother, when instead we become a contributing voice in the chorus.
Additionally, I sometimes find it helpful to look to the second tenet: Enable Beauty. This, like surrendering the solo to become a voice in the chorus, also requires that we try to get over ourselves, and swallow that stinging retort we just know will bring them to their knees and say, instead, something like: "Has anyone seen the new movie, book, exhibit, etc., at the wherever? I hear it is fascinating.” OK, it is a blatant attempt to change the subject and steer the conversational ship into the welcoming harbor of the aesthetics that underlie Harmony. Your table mates may well recognize it as such. But there is usually a positive reason that you all have gathered together at this place and time, and you may all be willing - even desirous - to leave acrimony behind.
In the name of full disclosure I must admit that I often find it difficult to follow the advice in this post. But I have an excuse. I have been a college professor for almost 50 years. It was my job to sing the solo part. These days it has become more fashionable to be “the guide at the side,” rather than “the sage on the stage.” That makes for a neat lyric, but I have problems with it - largely because I have spent the last decade or so teaching new undergraduates, often in their first college class. They are utterly unprepared to share the solo line. Many of them cannot even read music. So I have grown used to the necessity of singing solo to that particular audience. But as I come to spend more time with my peers, who are often completely, and rightly, unaware of, and unimpressed by, my academic credentials, I too, need to get over myself, and work on becoming more adept at becoming a contributing choral voice in eight-part Harmony.
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