Trust and Ugly Americans

essaysbysean.blogspot.com

Hello Reader,

Got Trust Issues? …

Got Ugly Americans?

Got an idea how the two are connected?

The previous blog post , URLs Again, had some interesting links (web addresses) 

Ugly American

One of the links was to a post by a famous blogger, Mark Manson, called Ten Things Most Americans Don’t Know About America. (footnote) As I was putting that link into context for my dear readers, I realized something. The “penny dropped” as I wrote:

“…written by an American, but not by an “Ugly American,” Mark Manson, living abroad, has truly mingled as an equal, and has a Brazilian wife.”

As you may know, the book The Ugly American, later a Marlon Brando movie, was a best seller that introduced that phrase into our culture. (and inspired the creation of the Peace Corps) The book came about because two well-traveled men thought America was “shooting itself in the foot” (my phrase) during the Cold War, that time of desperate competition with the Second World for the hearts and minds of the Third World. They first typed out an entire book of nonfiction, ripped it up, and then resorted to a series of short stories. In their book, the writers said the best advertisement for democracy was the Americans themselves, back home, where they are plain spoken, humble and gracious to guests, but… as soon as they put even one foot across their border—Whammo!—they turn ugly. Turn into snobs.

In Vietnam, just as in the book, this meant Americans staying with the snob elite in Saigon, while totally avoiding the villages that were… one, by one, by one… voting to go communist and support the guerrillas. (Viet Cong) In Iraq, as is well documented, this meant segregating themselves inside the elite “green zone.” Americans, as you know, were waging America’s War on Terror through their great task of striving for their noble goal of instilling democracy in Iraq. And equality. This while somehow avoiding all the common cab drivers, barbers and interpreters who, if any, any Americans had cared to humbly ask, would have unanimously advised, “Are you crazy? You can’t just…”

Snobs, eh? Would Canadians agree? Well, not about all Yankees, let’s not stereotype, but put it this way: I am still chuckling over folks in a charter flight to England, while still on the tarmac in Toronto, being addressed by their Canadian tour guide, who reminded them, “When we get to England, don’t act like American tourists.” People groaned. Did I say it was a charter? Of veterans and their spouses? Half the passengers were U.S. citizens. Who, by the way, got along well with their fellow North Americans, members of the Royal Canadian Legion.

Would Americans agree? Some are so ashamed of their ugly countrymen that when they backpack in England they put a Canadian flag on their pack. I’m still chuckling at a Canadian saying to a pair of young men in Paris, “Hi guys! What part of Canada are you from?” “New Jersey.”

Would I agree? I don’t know any more than the two writers do about the mystery of why Americans turn ugly, but I can humbly offer two small pieces to the puzzle: I think one reason is that Yankees don’t mingle as an equal. As we know from everyday life back home, snobs just don’t mingle well. They isolate. A second reason would require a whole page to explain: Trust Issues.

Trust Issues

Snobs don’t trust the natives.

My past is relevant to a recent slowness to act. “I was not always the man you see before you.” Many years ago I lived in a dark place. Compared to later years, my everyday self esteem was very much lower, my ever-present shame very much greater. Happily, I did personal growth, to the point that my chaplain noted my very voice had changed. (Not from aging) An old army roommate, honourably discharged and now a social worker, said to me, “You’re a success story.” His words I would gladly set up on the same shelf as my awards and medal. (Significantly, perhaps, we both stayed in the city of our last posting)

Part of my growth was from being in one or more self-help groups. At our meetings I would not talk of abstract things, however good, nor of what I was “gonna do” but rather, I told of specific events during my past week, of what I had just done and what it meant. I was admitting my mistakes, and sharing my strength and hope. In our sharing we were leading by examples of the good, the bad and the ugly. 

I suppose our meetings worked like evolution where, from our sharing about behaviours with consequences, over time the fittest behaviours would prevail. We found it useful to talk in simple non-medical terms, such as “isolating” and “boundaries.” I don’t think we ever said the term “trust issues” but I am saying it now. Until recently, I had known only two such unfortunates. (Now my ex-boss is a third)

One was a lady in my shared house. She was an angry communist who distrusted the capitalist world, meaning: just about everybody. The masses, including you and I, were too stupid to rise up for a revolution. An illustrative example of her trust issues: We found someone’s cat. Of course we only kept it temporarily. The thing was this: She hid the cat, when the owner came by, for fear that “owner,” a respectable ordinary looking woman, was not the real owner.

The other such person I knew was my girlfriend, angry and impatient with society. It seemed to me back then that our relationship meant trusting that we were safe to be emotionally intimate, use silly pet names and be naked. We managed to do the naked part but… it took me a while to grasp that no amount of me being honourable and trustworthy, again and again over time, would ever get her to feel trusting of me… She wasn’t a communist, but she did have a comparable superiority, believe that 90% of the population had an addiction, that everybody lives in daily grave danger of falling into an addiction to something.

Some might say: Too bad most people don’t know the joys of abstaining and only drinking plain water. Some might say: Too bad most people are too unenlightened to realize the joys of socialism. I would say: Such views are a form of snobbery. Great Superiority is a counterfeit coin: the obverse side is Greatly Distrusting. I would add that superiority is a crutch most unworthy.

From both my childhood and our popular culture (think schoolteacher getting mad or an angry sargeant) comes a “social contract”: You are allowed to be angry from having your higher standards, and in return you have to know what you are doing. But of course the contract is a sham. My best sergeants only raised their voices for emphasis, not anger. Same with each of the most accomplished ladies and gentlemen I have ever met. Even folks dealing with medical life and death, such as nurses and folks in my own profession, disabilities, will not be angry but instead firm and fair.

One of my imperfections as a young person was that I was too stubborn to name drop, place drop, or do other things to look cool. It worked out alright for me, as the friendly folks and the most secure cool folks would still want to get to know me. I thought: Never mind the rest. 

Another imperfection, partly as wimp-proofing, and partly as distrust, was my philosophy of “never complain, never explain.” My distrust: What if I tried to state something as a mitigating factor, and was then accused of making an excuse? Or worse: what if my side of the story wasn’t believed? What if I was called a crazy liar? My self esteem was low enough already without accusations. Better to be tough. It would all work out, I thought, because if someone worked or socialized with me over time, then they would surely get to know the real me far beyond my poor power to add or detract.

(Note: In healthy everyday life, with common sense trust, I do try to respect you and me when we complain or explain) 

I confess: Recently, at a certain part-time (fortnightly) workplace, my own unease around a boss with “trust issues” might have meant I gave up on him too easily. Then again, I try to be humbly conscious, as a “creative artist-type,” that I might be wrong about things, and that I might be wrong as to how much he and others should believe in inclusiveness and respect. 
(Two topics I’ve used for essays in the summer of 2018) 

Now, after making allowances, I have surely done all I can. In fact, I have at last taken action: I have resigned. This essay helps to put my “time-to-resign” insights into perspective.

Where my imperfect philosophy breaks down, of course, is when I encounter an angry superior isolating Ugly American. Because if such a person has trust issues… then despite rubbing shoulders over time I never can build any credibility. The “penny dropped” when I realized that if my boss is superior and disrespectful of everyone else too—and he surely is, grotesquely so, as much as my housemate and girlfriend—then almost no one he knows ever earns any credibility. Everyone in his world is forever at square one. Not just me. 

So I can say to myself, “Self, don’t take it personally, and give up any hope for change over time.” An illustrative example, which I won’t give any details for, was when my boss and I had a slight altercation last week, including his unethical breaking of the “social contract.” We simply weren’t dialoguing properly, certainly not as equals, but rather, with me as the native and him as the Ugly American. I did not offer a certain useful opinion, or a certain useful fact, because I knew from his anger he wasn’t interested. Was the issue “too angry?” Nope—Too disrespectful! Too bad, as it was a useful-to-him fact, too.

Of course I won’t divulge any historical workplace details: Too private for him, too distasteful for me, and—(cough)—too revealing of my formerly low self esteem. I am sad to say: A normal person would have resigned much earlier. But besides other reasons, I wanted to work on my own issues, on “my own side of the street” first… Snobs don’t ask for my help, and no I won’t, even now, give that boss any constructive feedback. No figurative exit interview.

(…Partly I won’t because there have been other folks quitting: If I have no value with that boss, then fine, let them give the feedback… except, as I only now realize, they wouldn’t feel valued either, not enough to offer vulnerable thoughts from their hearts and minds…)

Why not give feedback? Because it wouldn’t have worked for my old housemate: Character flaws are impervious to advice or logic. Besides, I don’t like to take chances with people who bizarrely don’t trust me; better to practise being strong and silent.

As for Americans in Iraq, I can sympathize with their initial culture shock at others having different opinions and beliefs, along with the almost inevitable “blame the natives” for one’s own discomfort, that’s merely human nature, but… After time has passed? Still? I wonder: How many Americans departed Iraq with their trust-level and respect-level for Iraqis no different than when they had first arrived and hadn’t even interacted with any natives yet? 

Snobs don’t change.

Sean Crawford

Calgary

2019

Footnotes:

~Here’s the (link) to the above post of Mark Manson.

~Don’t worry, my ex-boss won’t have his feelings hurt by reading this. I’m sure he doesn’t even read mass newspapers and flyers, let alone obscure web essays.

~The functional way to trust is to start in the middle trust level, and then raise or lower trust over time based on experiences such as from socializing together, or from seeing the person flinch at “too much information.” One might avoid the latter mistake with “share, check, share, check.”

~Among the least of reasons for not writing about any work details is my old self-help group’s concept of “don’t take (scrutinize) someone else’s (flaws) inventory.” Among the least of the reasons for this advice is wimp-proofing: Every minute spent thinking about another person is a minute of escaping any work on one’s own issues. 

To illustrate: That fellow that bitterly stalked his ex-girlfriend for ten years? I think he spent his ten years without getting any new girlfriend. 

By the way, as reported on CBC radio, the stalking didn’t stop until he died in a car accident. The police, for ten years, beginning with their saying, “He’ll soon get over it,” had been useless. Ten years of terror.

~For any young survivors reading this: 

Please don’t lose hope from reading my recent story. I know, I was wrong to stay too long at a gig unworthy of me, one where I was not valued, but that gig is only a very small blip on my big radar screen of life: I can assure you that right now at my functional full time job I am greatly valued for doing great work.

(As for documenting growth, last Monday night a poet at a coffee house microphone singled me out to people, last Friday night at a formal kickoff party I was singled out: In both cases I had to raise my hand to show myself to the crowd. Tonight I will be at a microphone myself, with enough self esteem to speak clearly and feel warmly valued from a monthly open mic community) 

Personal growth is real and possible. I can say this because I have done so.

Once you have experienced stage fright, you are always aware that it could be just around the corner waiting for you, just waiting for you to get cocky and overconfident. So you treat the body and the brain with much more respect, and you remain conscious always of the shadow in the corner.

Lawrence Olivier

For me, the capacity for shadowy self doubt always remains. 

I got that line from a fellow with a Ph.D, a successful writer, in his book The Content of Our Character. He, Shelby Steele, was (unknown to his family) verbally abused during class by a white racist during just a single year of elementary school. Other parents got the man fired, and the boy was told it wasn’t his fault, and this was logically true, but for the rest of his successful life the capacity for self doubt was always there. He thought the tension between everyday self esteem and this capacity was a distinctive part of each person’s makeup. I think the abusive year made him a better human, better able to dialogue with young black undergraduates and with white “fellow middle class” folk.

As Tiny Tim said, “God bless us, everyone.”