Jumping in on a long discussion about online bullying in LinkedIn discussion groups and people hijacking discussions, I found a need to add my two cents. (You may need to be a member of that discussion group to see it–not sure).

 

OK, I write as a US-American who has traveled widely and made a point of meeting and talking with people of the cultures where I was visiting (often through homestays, as well as through conversations on bank lines and public transit, etc.)

1. Yes, like every other country, the US has its share of boorish, know-nothing, blinders-on bigots. The difference: in the US, they tend to have more money and power, and more influence on the news media and the political, umm, “process.” And the media, in turn, influences those citizens who get their news from TV toward a very distorted worldview, driven by celebrity “news” and the things that TV execs think hold people’s interest in a newscast: fires, terrorism, natural disasters, and all the other “if it bleeds, it leads” crap.

2. However, the US also has millions of people who care deeply about the world, actively work to learn more about it, and engage in citizenship in a deep and true way (as do most other countries). Many of these folks have at least a functional grasp of one or more languages other than English—unlike the mainstream US population.

3. I’d encourage several of the posters to get out more. Meet your neighbors. Find people who agree with you, and those who don’t. Have open-ended, nonjudgmental conversations. You may be surprised at what you find. I know I was, when I started doing just that back in the mid-1970s. I have many friends with whom I acutely disagree on politics. Sometimes we argue. Sometimes we find other topics where we have common ground. The way to break down stereotypes is to engage with people.

I’ve done this an an organizer, too–for example, running for City Council on a platform focused on affordable housing, traffic safety, and honest/open/transparent government: “Mom and apple pie” issues that cross all demographics. If I had come out right away with an agenda of peace, economic justice, and environmental restoration (back in the 1980s and early 90s when I was a candidate), I would have been dismissed as “too radical”–but we could build consensus around the need for stop signs and crosswalks at dangerous intersections.

Later, I founded a successful campaign to save a threatened local mountain. Once again, I was able to make common cause with people who vehemently disagree with me on a host of other issues. But they could agree on saving the mountain.

And meanwhile, I go out to coffee with my Republican neighbors when I happen to be free on a Wednesday morning. We have fun, share stories of the neighborhood and its past and present residents, and sometimes get into it about politics.

The person who I disagree most strongly with is a fascinating guy, retired from a career as a TV news cameraman with a major network, including much experience abroad in various hotspots. I consider him a friend, but our views are worlds apart. He is a true Tea Partier, and I am basically a Green who usually votes Democratic since there are no viable third parties in the US. I think the others who attend these gatherings are actually amused when we have at it.

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Offices: too hot, too cold, and no Goldilocks to find the happy middle ground of “this one is just right.”

How can you find that happy medium that accommodates the woman in a sleeveless sundress ?and? the man in the suit…the person whose desk is a foot away from the air conditioning vent (which chills air far below the ambient room temperature) ?and? the one sitting in the hotspot caused by a sunny window?

The obvious solution is zoned temperature control, at a much more granular level than we typically get.

Here’s a really interesting article about temperature control in offices. Don’t worry; it’s not particularly technical. It’s not written for geeks, but for ordinary people trying to solve the problem.

It starts by discussing the problem in context: demonstrating several reasons why office temperature control usually doesn’t work very well.

Then it solves the problem with a smartphone app that lets individual users have a say in the temperature of their little area.

And here’s the really good news about this: in testing in one office building, HVAC bills dropped 23 percent. Lots more opportunity for savings, too.

There’s potential for much greater energy improvement. The General Services Administration (purchasing arm of the federal government) has prepared thinks raising office temperatures in federal buildings a mere two degrees F in the summer could save $1.87 million of our tax dollars. It has identified seven specific steps the federal government could take to drop energy use by an astounding 568.2 million kilowatt hours per year. Only two of them are in the “very expensive” category.

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Very interesting post on Business Week: “Can Small Businesses Start a Gay Rights Movement in Mississippi?

I totally support nondiscrimination in any public accommodation or retail setting—and I’m delighted to see the “We don’t discriminate. If you’re buying, we’re selling” campaign in Mississippi. But at the risk of alienating some of my friends, l think service businesses–especially values-based ones—are a different case. Before you jump all over me—read the language I send to new prospects for my marketing and consulting services:

Please note that I reserve the right to reject a project if I feel I’m not the right person for it. This would include projects that in my opinion promote racism, homophobia, bigotry or violence–or that promote the tobacco, nuclear power, or weapons industries–or if I do not feel the product is of high enough quality that I can get enthusiastic about it.

Notice that this language doesn’t discriminate against a person or class of people–but it certainly does discriminate against a set of beliefs.

Now, if I reserve that privilege for myself, how can I possibly justify withholding it from someone else who runs a service business and has different values than mine?

Also, there’s a provider quality issue. If I were forced to write a piece of marketing copy for a product whose values I despised, I would do a terrible job. Even if I consciously tried to do my best, it would come out shoddy and insincere, because I wouldn’t believe in what I was promoting. By the same token, I can’t imagine why a same-sex couple would WANT to hire a homophobic wedding photographer (one of the examples cited in the article); the pictures will be terrible.

If you’re renting a room, buying a sandwich, riding a bus, patronizing a theme park…yes, you should have the right to be served. But if a service provider is being asked to use specialized skills to support a cause that service provider finds morally repugnant, I’m not at all sure we should coerce that behavior.

Please comment below. I’d love to get some good dialog going on this.

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One of the books I’m currently reading is Charles Eisenstein’s Sacred Economics—which makes many fascinating points about the interplay of money, attitudes, and relationships. (I’ll be reviewing it in my March newsletter; if you don’t already subscribe, please do so in the upper-right corner of this page.)

Early in the book, he talks about the gift economy, and the difference between reciprocal giving and circular giving. Reciprocal giving is closer to barter than to a true gift economy: you give something to someone, and that person reciprocates either right then, or at some future time. Until the gift is “redeemed” by the second gift, it creates a sense of obligation—kind of like what the Millionaire Mindset types call the Law of Reciprocity.

But circular giving is a completely different framework. You give something to someone, either because that person needs something you have or simply because you want to give a gift. That person will make gifts to other people who they can help. You may or may not be among the recipients. But when you have a need, someone will step forward and enable it. It’s more Karmic.

I’d never really thought about the distinction before, but I realize I’ve lived the parts of my life that are in the gift economy on the circular model. A great example (among many) is homestays. We’ve been members of the international homestay network Servas for more than 30 years, and Couchsurfing since 2009 (Note: Servas link is to the United States site, as the International is down at the moment). People stay at our house. We stay in private homes when we travel. No money changes hands. When we travel, we usually bring a small gift: a bottle of wine, a loaf of good bread, a copy of one of our books—but this is something we choose to do and is not required by either organization. Some of our guests bring gifts, some don’t.

This is not just about saving money, though that’s certainly a factor. It’s about having a visit in a place where you didn’t know anybody. Having a human connection in a private home, instead of an impersonal hotel room interchangeable with others all over the world. It’s about going someplace as a traveler and a visitor, not as a tourist—experiencing a place, if just for a couple of days,  through the eyes of people who live there. Eating their food staying in their neighborhood, playing with their kids or pets, listening to their music.

It’s very rare that our homestays are reciprocal. I think there have been about five people in all these years where first one of us visited, and then the other return the visit—and the motivation in those cases was not “you owe me,” but “we enjoyed you so much, we’d like to see you again.” It’s actually very common for people who visit us to invite us to visit them,and vice versa. If we ever make it to Berlin, we already have half a dozen families who’d be delighted to host us and see us again.

And this goes back to Eisenstein; he makes the point that money not only commoditizes goods and services (and drives uniformity over craftsmanship)—but also commoditizes relationships. We build relationships with many of the people we meet through these homestay networks. We’re on each other’s Facebook friend lists or e-mail humor or political alert lists, we send copies of our annual letter, we stay in touch if we return to those locations. In short, we’re gaining friendships—not with everyone, but with the ones where the chemistry is good, and that’s most of them.

Even in the most hospitable Bed & Breakfast, with the most delightful innkeepers, this doesn’t happen; money creates a different dynamic.

And circular gift economies are only one facet of the evolving economy. I could do another whole post on paid shared-resource economies like Zipcar and Airbnb. And one thing all of you should consider is how much more eco-friendly these are than everyone buying their own car, their own lawnmower, etc.

I haven’t gotten to the part of Sacred Economics where Eisenstein lays out his ideas for money economies that don’t devalue and dehumanize. I’m looking forward to it, and might write again here when I see what he has to say about that.

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Two weeks in Turkey, not speaking the language, with my marketing radar wide open. Here’s some of what I noticed.

  1. A surprising number of Turkish TV commercials remind me very much of US commercials from the 1960s and 1970s: housewives demonstrating the superiority of some cleaning product, dancing chocolate bars, and so on. At the same time, some are totally state-of-the-art, with special effects and much more modern concepts about marketing. But as in America, often these forget to actually sell the product.
  2. At least during the slow season of our visit, most shopkeepers and hospitality business owners (and the general public) are very friendly, and eager to meet special requests.
  3. Personal service in the hospitality industry seems to be a Turkish hallmark. We repeatedly experienced people going the extra mile for us or plying us with gifts. As an example, one hotel proprietor arranged our public bus tickets to the next town, had the tickets delivered to the hotel, booked on us two tours at the next destination we were going to, and even paid the minibus fare from his gleaming hotel to the bus station, some 12 km away. Another one saw that we were making sandwiches and she supplemented our bread and cheese with a huge gift of fruit, olives, and better bread. An enterprising travel agent across from the bus station had his agency open hours before the others, in time to meet the early morning arrivals from the night buses. Offering a warm room on a cold morning and help communicating with hotels, he was doing a healthy business selling tours, balloon tickets, and lodging.And yet, some of the basics are neglected. One hotelkeeper never cleaned our room on a three-day stay (though all our other hotels cleaned regularly and thoroughly). A restaurant owner who served an excellent meal and whose dining room was beautifully decorated had not bothered to fix a long-broken door latch in the bathroom or his leaky toilet mount. Nonsmoking laws are violated constantly (almost every adult male Turk seems to smoke).
  4. The Turkish business community seems way behind in its use of the Internet. Vast numbers of businesses don’t have a website, and if they have an e-mail address on their business cards—many don’t—it’s Hotmail or maybe Gmail. Of those that do have a website, a surprising percentage have a useless brochureware site that gives nothing you can’t get out of a phone book—sometimes in multiple languages. And yet, the two-room hotel we chose in Goreme had a very professional English-language website, even though its owner speaks no English.
  5. My willingness to do business with someone is inversely related to how much pressure they exert—and I’m sure I’m not the only one. Despite this, in all the tourist locations, touts are everywhere, some of them quite obnoxious. Those with a different approach really stand out. In one souvenir craft shop whose owner gave us all the time we wanted to browse his offerings, answered our questions but otherwise left us alone, we bought five different items. Often, however, we were prepared to buy, but left without buying as the pressure increased. Yet the behavior continues.
  6. We saw very few beggars; much fewer than in the US. In Turkey, it seems the economically marginal eke out a living by trying to sell something: a glass of fresh-squeezed juice, a bagel, a bag of roasted chestnuts, a shoeshine, a song—or, of course, earn a commission from one of the rug or craft merchants. Particularly in Old City Istanbul, male strangers will approach you, chat you up, give some bit of genuinely helpful advice, and steer you toward their particular rug shop.
  7. There is a great deal of competition among nearby businesses, but also a great deal of cooperation. Merchants respect their neighbors and will work together to make a sale for someone. Tea shops in the Grand Bazaar do a thriving business ferrying chai to the rug merchants who offer it to their prospects.
  8. During the slow season (such as our December visit), many businesses hang on by the slimmest of threads. One restaurant owner told us he’d had one table to serve the previous day and we were, at 1 p.m., the only ones that day. He was quite excited that he already had a reservation for the following day.
  9. The sampling economy is so taken for granted in Istanbul that locals will simply reach in to a bulk food bin and try something without asking. If they like it, they buy. We didn’t have a chance to observe these kinds of markets outside of the Istanbul region, so I don’t know if that’s true elsewhere.

Crafts will vary enormously in quality and price. If you plan to go beyond Istanbul, get a sense of what the items you like cost. You may find them for half as much in other regions, or you may see them higher and want to pick them up before you fly out. If you want to make sure you’re buying Turkish goods, check labels carefully

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Buying local. Worker co-ops. Neighborhood resiliency. Community control. Does it feel overwhelming trying to track and sort out all of these community economy movements and buzzwords?

Writer Laura Flanders, Yes Magazine, and GritTV have collaborated to make it easier for the rest of us. They’ve launched a new feature called Commonomics, and the first installment is a nice roundup of some of these trends, told through the stories of people whose stories rarely make it into mainstream media.

The initial installment is called “Welcome to Commonomics: How to Build Local Economies Strong Enough for Everyone,” and OI recommend reading it.

 

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Reading a newsletter from a marketer I generally find thought-provoking, sincere, and personable, I was rather surprised to read an article where she took one of her subscribers to task for objecting to the word “sucks” on her home page.

To me, that word inserts an unnecessary barrier, the more ironic because she bases her whole approach on connecting person-to-person.

So of course, I wrote her a note:

As some one who does my best to–and *usually* succeeds–find the best even in the grumps (in that way, I’m like your late father, I guess)–may I put another possible interpretation out there? It’s likely that this person was just looking for an excuse to act out–BUT it’s also possible that he had good reason to be offended by the S word. I personally don’t use that word, because it can be can be interpreted as homophobic–being derived from a longer expletive that starts with a c, the first four letters of which represent the male organ (I’m not being a prude here by not stating the word, but I do have a goal of avoiding the spamfilters). For the same reasons, I don’t use the word “niggardly”, even though its etymology has nothing to do with the n-word–I don’t want people who don’t know that etymology to think I’m racist.

And there’s a difference between “plain language” and foul language. I grew up on the tough streets of the Bronx, and it was a minefield of F-bombs and other expletives–but I’ve lived in places where cursing is considered not just extremely rude but an offense against religion. So, take your choice–the left -wing or right-wing possibility of why he was teed off.

I don’t remember how I found your list, but I suspect I would not have subscribed if the first thing I’d seen was “disconnection sucks”. I have a thicker skin than to be offended, but there are always better ways to say it, and I would not have wanted to get into the network of someone whose language could have been interpreted as mean and deliberately offensive, because I surround myself with people who empower others and don’t denigrate them.

Luckily, I found you some other way (I have no idea how our paths crossed, actually)–and I know you to be a caring and empowering person. But think about the message you’re putting out here, intentionally or not. This is not so much a question of political correctness as it is of establishing unnecessary barriers. yes, I understand that you want to drive the wrong people away, and I respect that. I do the same thing. For instance, when someone approaches me about working together, there’s a paragraph in my reply that says,

“Please note that I reserve the right to reject a project if I feel I’m not the right person for it. This would include projects that in my opinion promote racism, homophobia, bigotry or violence–or that promote the tobacco, nuclear power, or weapons industries–or if I do not feel the product is of high enough quality that I can get enthusiastic about it.”

But I wonder if what your doing might drive the RIGHT people away too–especially since to me, it is so out-of-harmony with your real core message of marketing through the power of personal story.

I’ll be very curious to receive her response. And meanwhile, how about a response from you? Are curse words a barrier for you? Am I overreacting? Is she unnecessarily defensive? Why, or why not?

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I’d been wanting to see “No Impact Man” since it came out a few years ago. It’s a documentary of a family who tries to live for a year with zero net impact on the environment, phasing down gradually from the conveniences we take for granted.

Last night, we watched the movie. What I had never realized is that Colin and his at-first-skeptical wife Michelle are doing this in New York City—in the capital of consumerism, in the belly of the beast. And Michelle in particular came from a superconsumerist lifestyle, a self-identified shopping addict who purchased lots of designer clothes and either ate out or got take-out almost every night.

The Bicultural Perspective

Dina and I were both raised in New York City; we were both living in Brooklyn when we met. But 32 years ago, we moved from Philadelphia (we’d lived there for nine months) to Greenfield, Massachusetts, population 20,000 and the hub town for farmy Franklin County.

Six months later, when Dina got a job 40 miles south of us, we moved 20 miles south to Northampton, a hip, urbane small college/arts town of 30,000, also surrounded by farmland.

And then, after 17 years in Northampton, we moved across the river 15 years ago to Hockanum, a tiny village of about 200 souls. We live on a working farm that’s been in our neighbors’ family since 1806; they raise 400 cows as well as hay and corn to support the cattle.

Our farm neighbors sold us a house that was built in 1743, and they were only the second family to own it. Mount Holyoke (the mountain, not the college) is literally right behind our house; Mount Tom is just across the Connecticut River.

It’s pretty darn different from the 26-storey apartment building in a 35-high-rise complex where I lived during high school, or from the noisy urban melting pot neighborhoods of my earlier childhood and Dina’s entire upbringing.

For many years, we’ve called ourselves “bicultural.” We can still function well in the fast-paced, loud, crowded setting of New York. But after 32 years in the Pioneer Valley, we’re actually more at home with our country neighbors—talking about our gardens, hiking the hills, and sharing an ethic that values the land. Frugality and green choices have always been a part of our lifestyle, even before we left the city.

With this history, our viewing of “No Impact Man” reflects both our urban past and our rural present: two very different worlds. (to be continued tomorrow)

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Today, I am proud to be an American.

When I attended my first same-sex commitment ceremony, sometime around 1980, I never thought I’d see so much progress, so fast. In 1982, I went to the first LGB pride march in Northampton, Massachusetts—and some of the marchers wore bags over their heads to protect their idenities.

In 2005, just 23 years later, my own state of Massachusetts became the first to legalize same-sex marriage. And now, with today’s Supreme Court decisions in favor of gay marriage, several major ripples happen:

  • California will likely become the 13th state to legalize marriage equality, and that will mean about 30 percent of the US population will live in a place where partners of the same gender can marry
  • The wretched DOMA, the so-called “Defense of Marriage Act” (I prefer to call it the Desecration of Marriage Act) is invalidated, and the numerous discriminatory practices it enshrined are nullified—creating economic equality for same-sex relationships in such matters as inheritance, hospital visitation rights, and spousal benefits (DOMA is the worst kind of compromise—the kind that makes no one happy)
  • The US is well on its way to joining the 14 other countries that have legalized gay marriage, and thus joined the 21st century on this issue: not just the progressive hotspots of Northern Europe, but even two countries in South America (with Brazil expected to join them soon) and one in Africa

So what does it mean? Living in a state where same-sex marriage has been legal for 8 years, I can tell you that it has broken down a lot of barriers. When people realize that the same-sex couples in their community are just neighbors, working with them on the block beautification committee or school parent association—struggling with the same issues, sharing the same triumphs—a lot of the prejudice goes away. Just as we’ve seen a huge change in relations between races after the legal apartheid of the segregated south went away, we’ll see a gradual dissipation of prejudice as people of different sexual orientations rub shoulders in multiple contexts.

Congratulations to the Supreme Court, to all my lesbian and gay friends, to the Obama administration that urged this decision—and to my country.

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Recently, a local high school was targeted by an out-of-state hate mail campaign because it chose to produce “The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told,” a gay and lesbian retelling of the Bible by Paul Rudnick. Protestors from various church groups promised to picket the performances. The story even made the Huffington Post.

It happened that the school producing the play was Pioneer Valley Performing Arts Charter Public High School, where both my children attended some years ago—a school known for its fabulous (reference intended) theater and dance departments. We’ve continued to attend many of the school’s performances even though my younger child is already a sophomore in college.

So of course, both to defend freedom of speech in the Pioneer Valley and to enjoy a night of theater we knew would be terrific, we attended. And we were gratified that in addition to the antigay protestors, a goodly multitude of pro-performance church groups were on hand to lend support.

The interesting thing is…if you accept the basic premise that gay and lesbian couples exist (and, in this play, were present at creation and right through modern times)—there’s almost nothing blasphemous in the play, which centers on Adam, through the ages, trying to find meaning in life. His questioning is very much rooted in the Old Testament tradition of prophets arguing with God. The whole alternate world is set in motion by a Stage Director (female, in this performance), which makes it clear from the get-go that this is an imaginary theatrical universe within the universe we all now, as opposed to any real redefinition of Biblical history. I found exactly one scene that fundamentalists might object to: 30 seconds out of a two-hour play that imply the Christ child was born of the play’s lesbian couple—and even this keeps the virgin birth intact.

Of course, the vast majority of those who protest this play wherever it is performed have never seen or read it. Fundamentalism, of any religion, leaves no window for dissenters and questioners.

By contrast, I just saw a 1999 movie called “Dogma,” a low-budget flick with a superstar cast (including very young Matt Damon and Ben Affleck as a pair of very foul-mouthed sin-avenging angels on a killing spree, George Carlin as a shady, street-tough Catholic Cardinal in New Jersey, Chris Rock as the delightful unknown 13th Apostle, and Salma Hayek as as a celestial being-turned-stripper). Early in the movie, we see Damon in an airport lounge, casting deep doubts about God’s existence into the mind of a confused Catholic nun. After she leaves, Affleck points out the irony that Damon’s character has known God directly.

An angel who kills with an assault weapon is only one of the many blasphemies—not all of them violent. The reimaging of several different pieces of the Jesus story as well as the portrayal of God will no doubt raise a few eyebrows among the faithful. Hundreds of people die in this funny but very gory film.

Now this is a movie that many Christians and religious Jews would find blasphemous all the way through—if they can stop laughing long enough to reflect on it. And yet, I didn’t remember any protests around it!

But Google has a better memory than I do; there were protests, actually. In fact, Disney’s Michael Eisner cut the film loose from his empire, under pressure from the Catholic League. Not only that, but the film’s director, Kevin Smith, infiltrated one of the protests—what a brilliant publicity move! He wrote and spoke (quite humorously) about his experience on this page, which also includes a TV news report of the protest, where he got recognized and interviewed.

I can understand that a film about a couple of angels cursing and shooting their way through modern America would upset people. But what does it say about our culture that people also get upset about sincere and committed expression of same-sex love?

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