oelier

I like Barak Obama.  I like his ideas.  I like his energy.  I like his style.

I don't like how people seems to have handed him all their problems and are saying, "Well.  We've elected the best leader.  Now it's time to sit back and wait for things to get better."  He's been put on a pedestal.  Never a good thing.  Already the Smithsonian is planning to recreate one of his field offices.    Granted, it probably has as much to do with being the first African-American elected president as anything else.  But one can't help but wonder if there isn't something of idolizing also involved.  In my mind, idols represent something untouchable, something unattainable.  Idols are counter to Barak's central campaign message, "Yes we can!"  Over and over, I've heard people say, "He's proven that it can be done."  This doesn't sound like an idol.  It sounds like a role model.

Leaders lead.  Saviors save.  Many of the people I've heard talk about how things are going to change seem to believe they've elected a savior.  The problem with saviors is that all you have to do for them to save you is to subscribe to their ideology (sometimes blindly so), and they will make your life better.  You can just sit around and say, "SHE will make things better," or "HE will make things right."  It is an idol, a deus ex machina.  Barak has shown that he is NOT an idol.  He leads.  He inspires, he motivates, he empowers us to play our part.  He knows very well he can't fix everything, much less do it himself. 

So why is he being placed on a pedestal?  I don't know.  My theory is that America has collective-ADHD.  Putting him on a pedestal, turning him into a savior, allows people to turn their efforts to the dazzling array of 'opportunities' and activities.  It allows them to get lazy.  I'm not talking physically lazy, or mentally lazy.  I'm talking about the inability of many people to maintain commitment to "the big picture."  By putting Barak on a pedestal, people are saying, "We've hired somebody to do something about the big picture so that I don't have to." 

One of Barak's biggest challenges is to take himself off the pedestal and convince people that his job is to be a role model, a leader, not an idol, a savior.  The question is, will he realize it?

In considering the difference between “quitting” and “giving up,” there are some judgmental implications of each.  I approached them, but didn’t actually cross the line and address them in Part 1.  I didn’t want to complicate things too much with a potential hot button interpretation.

In denotative terms, “can’t”,  “cannot”, and “can not” mean that something is not possible.  In today’s connotative terms, however, this phrase and its variants are often used in place of “will not” or “won’t”.  In psychological terms, this is the difference between a passive and an active approach to something.  In social terms, though, it is often either used by those too lazy or timid to be decisive, or it is seen as being too lazy or timid.  Though there is some truth to both social and psychological view points, I think that using “quit” as a substitute for “give up” tends to stem from lazy English.  English is a wonderful language, filled with very subtle shadings and nuances between synonyms that people tend to ignore in favor of convenience.

When speaking with people, we tend to respect those who use “won’t” more than those who use “can’t,” even if we don’t agree.  The term “can’t” shuffles responsibility off onto a situation.  In American culture we tend to respect people, not situations, those who do not take responsibility do not earn respect.

If “can’t” means “I don’t want to take responsibility” and “won’t” means “stopping is my responsibility,” so what?  What does it matter if you don’t want the responsibility?  What’s wrong with not wanting the responsibility?  Nothing.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with declining to take on responsibility for something. (I’m talking, here, about something yet to happen, not taking responsibility for something you have already done.)  The problem is that instead of saying, “I don’t want the responsibility for that,” many people blame the situation and use the situation as an excuse.

I’ve often been told, “Don’t quit,” and, “no one wants a quitter,” and, “quitters will let you down.”  At the time it sounded like good advice.  Recently, though, I’ve begun to wonder.  Why, with all of these “don’t quit” messages are we supportive of some kinds of quitters?  Smokers, for instance, or recovering alcoholics.  Is it really quitting that needs to be avoided, or is it something else?

I tell my students, “Never give up.”  It follows the old adage, “It’s not over ‘til the fat lady sings.”  There are many come-from-behind stories that seem to prove the idea that you’re not finished until the task is done.  And yet, what about the stories of people ruining themselves because they followed the idea of “keep going until you succeed” blindly?

Somewhere between the two is the ideal.  I’ve decided that, though the definitions are similar, quitting and giving up are not the same.  Giving up implies a lack of will to keep going.  Whether it’s from lack of emotional commitment, the idea that a task is physically impossible for you to do, or just that you believe that the situation is hopeless, giving up is about the situation dictating your actions. 

Quitting is merely stopping an activity with no intention of returning to it.  Quitting is about deciding for yourself what your actions will be.  If you have the mental, emotional, and physical fortitude to keep going against seemingly impossible odds, if you retain the desire to keep trying, then when you stop, you are quitting, not giving up.  In many cases, quitting requires that you be stronger at an emotional and mental level (even physical depending on the activity) than to keep going.

Making this mental switch to considering where the impetus for action comes from can be difficult.  Especially if you are used to thinking quitting and giving up are the exact same thing.  On one level, they do mean the same thing.  They both mean stopping an activity.  On the connotative level, though, they are nearly opposites.  If you quit, you decide to stop.  If you give up, the situation decides you will stop.  The critical thought patterns are completely different.  The person who gives up says, “I can’t.”  The person who quits says, “If I don’t like where this is going, I won’t.”

So all you alcoholics and smoke-a-holics and whatever-holics, be quitters…and don’t give up quitting.