Category Archives: Models

Examples we can productively study

Close Quarters

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Source: Wikimedia.org
An Amtrak Dining Car , Wikimedia.org

Cramped conditions can be interesting ad-hoc laboratories: chances to see how individuals cope with another’s intrusion into their intimate space.

Life has a way of randomly throwing us together with complete strangers in tight spaces.  Trains, elevators, airplanes and crowded stores typically violate the two- to four-foot zone that we preserve for ourselves.

For most of us, being momentarily stuck in a small space with a crowd is a simple nuisance.  But for a student of interaction patterns, cramped conditions can be interesting ad-hoc laboratories: chances to see how individuals cope with another’s intrusion into their intimate space.

We’ll skip planes, where the experience is something to be endured, and where travelers are just thankful to still have the free use of the plane’s pressurize air.  But consider the ubiquitous elevator, and the mix-and-match experience of having a meal in a railroad dining car.

As little closets expected to hold 10 or 12 people, elevators represent the triumph of necessity over comfort. Walking twelve flights is a good workout. But no one wants to arrive at their business destination looking like they just finished the New York Marathon. So in the cramped space of the little vertical room, eyes are averted to the ceiling, the poster advertising the restaurant in the lobby, or to a middle distance that is supposed to relieve others of the need to respond. It actually becomes harder to remain completely disengaged when only one or two are on an elevator. But there are safe tropes for a brief conversation that can help pass the time.  Comments on the weather are safe, as are observations on how slow this particular version of the vertical room is. In a hotel perhaps a timid query about where a co-passenger is from will work. But even that can tread near the borders of the acceptable. Not surprisingly, our comfort in these settings seems to be in direct proportion to the frequency of the experience. Living in the center of Chicago or New York, a person learns how to be a compatible stranger.

A few years ago I was at a convention at a large urban hotel where the management thought it would be a good idea to include a small built-in television screen and speaker just above the elevator’s control panel. Strangers who stepped in had to be ready for more than a vertical ride. They were immediately thrust into the world of CNN, where a good day means covering a national or world crisis with live and often disturbing images of mayhem. On this occasion I recall an endlessly repeated report focusing on community outrage over a police shooting. The story featured a home video of police beating and subduing two African American men.  Gunshots followed and one of the men died.

Endlessly looping the footage of the attacks over audio discussions of excessive force had the effect of throwing many convention-goers out of their celebratory mood and in to the much harder world of a socially polarized nation. As the elevator went up the mood of the passengers inevitably went down.

Here’s the interesting thing. The collection of individuals in the elevator became common witnesses to an ugly incident.  And yet no one wanted to react; no one wanted to reveal themselves to strangers by interpreting what CNN’s report meant. Opinions remained too intimate to risk with this transitional group.  Even so, our daily lives are not unlike this transitional moment. Like the tiny space that shuttles between floors, the pervasiveness of our media constantly deliver us to social situations which are not stable for very long.  Media relentlessly deliver us to vastly different representations of the human drama, some comforting and some disturbing.

Long-distance rail travel is another interesting case.  By custom, a single traveler eating in the dining car of a train will be asked to join others to make a table of four. Amtrak doesn’t accommodate the shy who want to eat alone. No other social routine is so likely to throw a person into the intimacy of a shared meal with total strangers. And yet the experience can be surprisingly refreshing.  If most of us live in a bubble of like-minded friends, the dining car is easily going to pierce it. On a recent trip that included lunch and diner I met a clearly well-heeled woman from Virginia horse country returning home after a speech to a woman’s group.  We sat across from a trucker from Elkhart Indiana who delivers buses all over the U.S. (and had to tell us about his $60,000-a-year salary).  At other meals I met two retired professors from Berkeley on their way to see family in Minnesota, a grizzled Florida retiree returning from a football game in Nebraska, and a perfectly dressed older woman off to see friends in the District of Columbia.

The rules of the table were always clear: references to hometowns, the lateness of the train, and dispersed families are all fair game. Politics, religion and other “third rail” topics are not.  We also had the common experience of having hit a car just after midnight.  It had died and been hastily abandoned on the tracks.  So we compared notes on who had been able to sleep while fire crews pulled the impaled automobile off the front of the engine.

My experience is that Midwesterners sometimes go on for too long about the prospects of their city or college football teams. I usually return the favor by becoming loquacious about the surprising beauty of New Jersey. But there is a bigger lesson here. Spending time in these close quarters is usually reassuring. Eating in Amtrak’s café or dining cars is as close as most of us will get to making contact with a random group of ordinary Americans. If we allow it, even this chance encounter can remind us of our shared and simple decency.

Comments: woodward@tcnj.edu

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Questioning Questionable Sources

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We can’t navigate through the informational tsunami that flows over us everyday if we don’t make critical assessments about the reliability of sources. 

Since the ancient Greek philosophers, the study of communication has concerned itself with the credibility of sources.  Aristotle especially insisted on the importance of  only putting faith in people with “good character,” high “ethos,” and personal “virtue.”  All were considered critical measures in determining the worth of an individual’s contributions to public discourse. The later Roman rhetorician Quintilian famously described the perfect advocate as a “good person speaking well.”

The idea of rigorous assessment of the potential veracity of a source is critical, not just in legal proceedings, where the stakes are obviously high, but in all walks of life.  Making decisions or forming attitudes based on someone else’s word is a survival skill. But in our over-communicated society, qualifying a source of information as “probably” reliable now boils down to little more than liking the source.

Americans seem to lack even the basic skills to make basic estimations of motives that might reveal glaringly obvious biases.  I’ve recently heard from individuals who were much too generous in accepting conclusions from questionable advocates, for example:  accepting British Petroleum as a decent source for learning about the explosion and oil spill of the Deepwater Horizon in 2010, accepting the word of a National Hockey League doctor on “overblown” stories of head trauma among players, accepting Wal-Mart as a source of reliable “information” on the treatment of their employees. All are examples of misplaced faith in an organization’s ability to tell the truth, even when their own financial interests should make us cautious about accepting their claims.

Consider another example with a different twist.  The National Football League has estimated that one in three of their players will have significant cognitive problems due to the bone crushing nature of their work.  On first glance, one may assume that the NFL would have an interest in minimizing player head injuries.  And if they did, their credibility ought to be called into question.  But an astounding projection of one in three players for limitations of “mental function” actually makes their estimate quite credible. That’s a lot of players. They would not have confirmed that rate unless it was probably true. This admission should raise some red flags with anyone connected with the sport.

This general laxity about applying reasonable standards of credibility to the assessment of sources comes at a time when more advertisers seek to embed their marketing campaigns as “sponsored content” on websites. For the advertiser, the idea is to take a soft focus view of a brand within a form that looks like straight journalistic content.  So the Washington Post website runs an article entitled “Five Chefs Talk Cheese” sponsored by the “Innovation Center for U.S. Dairy.”  To the Post’s credit, they label the content as “sponsored.”  But that tag is easy to miss.  Desperation to keep news businesses profitable can easily erode the firewall that protects honest journalism from paid flacking.  And so we can drift from hard editorial content to “click bait” that looks like news, hardly conscious of whose interests are being served. This risky ignorance of sources is borne out in recent research.  Online distractions can short-circuit critical thinking.

The critical point here that is that we cannot navigate through the informational tsunami that flows over us everyday if we don’t make critical assessments about the reliability of sources.  Doing anything less is the equivalent of mistaking a desert mirage for a true oasis.