Dan Erwin

How to Recognize Someone Is Using You

It was a seemingly innocent question. But actually, he was just using me.

On Easter Sunday, after spending a rare day alone at home, I decided to grab a small bite and a glass of wine at a local pub. Since I would be alone, I took along a book that I intended to finish. A terrific little volume by Mark Edmundson: “The Age of Guilt.”

I sat at the bar, slowly drinking my cab and enjoying a crabcake, all the while reading and marking up this fascinating book. One of the most intriguing and enlightening works I’d read in years.

My reading habits began in elementary school, developed while I was in seminary, blossomed while I was in the pastorate and a seminary faculty member—and exploded in my consulting business. Although I am a lot more than this, I am my books.

I take a lot of time marking my books and papers, and putting notes in the front of the books and also outlining my research papers notes on an added single page, all making important substance available immediately. I’d be much less a person without my books and my studies. No question but that my effectiveness in church ministry, seminary—and especially in business—was tied to a substantially developing knowledge base and—I don’t want to ignore this—an extensive experience in the performing arts that continually shaped and reshaped my decision making.             

Why I Still Write Blogs

Periodically, I get asked why, at age 86, I’m still writing blogs. Usually the person asking is in their sixties or seventies. It’s a question that just keeps coming up again and again in spite of the fact that 62% of my blog viewers are under age 34, and 55% are using mobile devices—all of which says a lot and is very satisfying for me. But the older age of my questioners makes my answer easy. I just say something along the line of wanting to keep my gray matter working, lest it slow down. Older adults understand that response and seem to be happy with it. There’s truth in that answer. But actually, it’s a brushoff.

To understand why I still write, you’ll first need to understand my life as a child and adolescent. I was the elder of two sons, three years apart, in a profoundly dysfunctional family. My mother was a flaming narcissist and, as my brother said over her grave, “a mean lady.” My father had divorced her two years into my life—a rare act in the 1930s--and then remarried her when he realized my younger brother was on the way. I cannot remember a single week in my entire life before leaving for college when there were not emotional fights and tears. My father actually attempted suicide once. When angry, he broke plates and cups on the floor, then went off hunting with his dogs and a Black buddy, in season and out. Of course, there were significant consequences of all that to my life. To protect myself, I learned to become deceptive, a tool which I have mostly unlearned. My language skills were always the best tools for self-protection. Whenever possible, I retreated to books—books of all kinds—in my search for new language and new ideas. My brother lacked my language competencies. He wasn’t even a good liar—the primary tool for avoiding our mother. Instead, he was the family scapegoat. The two of us had little relationship. Always in trouble, he was sent off to three private schools in his junior high and high school years. Two, out-of-state, before my dad finally shipped him off to the army at age eighteen. The differences between my brother and myself were also instructive. It was one more driver of my language and relational learning. With my background in psychology, I now understand that he was an attachment avoidant and I was a low-level anxious avoidant—a dysfunction that, calculatingly, I worked on changing throughout the first 10 years of my adult life.

What’s obvious, and also profoundly frustrating, is that my mother was my teacher--and an exceptionally capable tutor. Attendance in her school was compulsory and I spent 24 hours a day figuring out how to win the top grades. My best friend recently described that learning as highly reflective. Continually ruminating, I spent all those years attempting to outsmart her. It was language, I kept confirming. It was always the best tool. I worked hard at becoming linguistically effective, eventually escaping, marrying a wonderful woman and moving to another world. It turns out that having someone believe in my failure enabled my success. My friend, also said, laughing, that I would have been a superb Courtier in the Court of Elizabeth the First. I’d be able to manage all the politics and come away rich. My brother, in significant contrast, decided that the best way to manage our mother was to escape. And he spent his years at home attempting to escape her clutches—usually failing. Elizabeth’s henchmen would have tracked him down and murdered him. Essentially that’s what happened. It just took my mother 70 years...

How to Read What's Not Being Said or Written

In today’s complex world, the more analytical and rhetorical tools you have, the better off. That thinking was confirmed uniquely a couple years ago when I put up a a blog on "reading subtexts.. Surprised by the comments and “thank yous,” I’ve decided to go a bit further into what my discipline of rhetoric calls “close reading.” By “close reading,” I’m referring to both print and spoken messages and to more than just the literal words. As in, “If I’m reading the vice-president correctly, he’ll reject that proposal out of hand.”  

So, when I talk about subtexts, I’m referring to covert meanings, hidden commitments, undiscussables,” or what's not said.  The meanings are not immediately clear, but over time and with context, the listener can understand what’s meant.

For example, a student goes to turn in his paper. After looking through two pages, his teacher asks, “Are you sure you want to turn this in?” The literal text is a question that asks for a yes or no. The meaning of the text is suggested by the actual words, message and action discussed. But the student understands her subtext--that his paper may have some typos, misspelling or syntax problems. By her question, she gives the student the latitude to make his own decision about the paper—or receive a lower grade.

A different tool, beyond that notion of subtext, is what does the meaning of a text do to a person’s thoughts, motives, actions or predispositions? This is the kind of analysis that is usually much more complex. It requires a richer, fuller understanding of the context—the teacher’s past comments about his writing ability.

In this larger context, the student remembers many positive comments his teacher has made about his writing. So her question means that there’s nothing wrong with the paper as such. But given the larger context, he recognizes that she’s reminding him that he’s more capable of original, creative writing. Based on the past, her question asks whether he wants to enhance his writing. So what does he think about redoing the paper, giving further thought, insight and color to his article? In sum, it’s a question about his unusual originality and creativity.

This analytical tool can be even more useful for stories, anecdotes and movies.

I watched a couple of absolutely fascinating movies over the past month. The stories and the acting in both were rich and warm. One about a heterosexual relationship and the other about gay relations. The first, the 2005 “Pride and Prejudice” starred Keira Knightly and Matthew Macfadyen. The second was the BBCs “Man in an Orange Shirt,” with Vanessa Redgrave. Curious, because of their power over me, I watched both of them a couple times...

Two 3-Letter Words for Problem Solving—and Creativity

I’ve always been fascinated by how words work--and what they can do to us. I’ve been especially intrigued over the past thirty years by questions—yeah, I’m a question nut! I actually have an entire shelf in my library on the discipline of questioning. My hobby is easily explained. Effective questions are a key to learning and growing. Which means that questions are how we make change. And inevitably, clients hire to me to help them make change. 

So, I was glued to a recent column by the NYT’s Bret Stephens on a new book, The Secrets of Jewish Genius, which I took to be about creativity and problem solving. (FYI: I’m English and Scot--not Jewish.) I’ve long since learned that as soon as I begin to get into disciplines like economics, science, politics, psychology, psychiatry, human resources, fiction, music, etc. and etc., I start running into Jewish writers. Here’s just a brief list: Sigmund Freud, Benjamin Disraeli, Albert Einstein, Franz Kafka, Irving Kristol, Rudolf Serkin, Daniel Kahneman, Jeff Pfeffer, Abraham Maslow, Karl Marx, and Milton Friedman.

So, I was very curious about the answer to Stephens’ thesis question: “How is it that a people who never amounted even to one-third of 1 percent of the world’s population contributed so seminally to so many of its most pathbreaking ideas and innovations?”
Stephens deals with the “Jews are Smart” explanation, commenting that it obscures more than it illuminates. Instead, he chooses to deal with the question of why intelligence is matched by “bracing originality and high-minded purpose.”

The answer to his question is surprising: “Jewish genius operates differently (from other thinkers). It is prone to question the premise and rethink the concept: to ask why (or why not?) as often as how. . . Where Jews’ advantage more often lies is in thinking different.”

There are the two very, shockingly simple, important words that can add significantly to your creativity: why not?

The Most Underrated Skill in Management??

This past Spring’s issue of the MIT Sloan Review (2017) had an intriguing article with the above title, minus the question marks. “This sounds interesting,” I thought. “Wonder what they’ll say?” At the conclusion of the third paragraph the authors wrote, “We’ve come to believe that problem formulation is the single most underrated skill in all of management practice.”

Good shot guys, but not quite. After thoughtfully re-reading the entire ten-page article, I concluded, that the article was exceptionally insightful from a process standpoint. But as far as being the “most underrated” skill, it’s nonsense. Uniquely, it offers me the opportunity to challenge common business priorities that need serious rethinking. But, reflecting for just a few moments more, I was reminded of a brilliant and thought-provoking set of articles edited by the eminent psychologist, Robert Sternberg, entitled “Why smart people can be so stupid.”

The authors of “Smart people. . .” come up with a number of reasons for their conclusion. In spite of the MIT quoted research, one of the most apropos reasons for stupidity is what can be termed the mindless assimilation of social (business) biases. With their impeccable MIT Harvard reputation, these patently smart people demonstrate a bias that is clearly that of the academy. If you read widely and analytically in business, it’s obvious that thinking about people competencies is controlled by organizational behaviorists with a solely psychological background. They look solely at thinking, but not at conversing. It explains too clearly what’s going on in the MIT article. 

It’s an innocent limitation, but limiting conclusions to a single discipline, like psychology or organizational behavior, inevitably limits formulation and potentially creative solutions. Extensive research reveals that...

Harris, Warren and Biden Are Going to Get Eaten Alive by Trump

Most Democrats assume that Harris or Biden--and perhaps Warren--can beat Trump in a debate. The fact of the matter is that in a debate there's a high potential that all three of these lawyers will get eaten alive by Trump. The successful prosecution of both Barr and Biden by Harris, many also think, is illustrative of what she can do with Trump. That's profoundly flawed thinking. The problem with all four of them (Barr included) is that they work on the basis of lawyerly assumptions. What do I mean by that? I'll explain--and also reveal why Harris, who did so well with Biden and Barr, cannot work her magic with Trump.

It's all about assumptions. Lawyers inevitably come to the party with rational assumptions and act like a judge is watching. The fundamental assumption that all three of them bring is that by asking questions you can expose the weaknesses of the opposition. In other words, the opposition  has to answer a question in some form that can then be analyzed or rejected.

But the big problem these lawyers face in dealing with Trump is...

5 Steps to Get Buy-In from Your Colleagues (and Your Boss)

Many people do not seem to recognize that getting buy-in for their ideas is not only key to organizational success--but also to personal and career success. This is an issue that does not seem to go away or get old. Furthermore, the inter-disciplinary set-up of businesses today just makes the competency both more difficult and more valuable.

Surprisingly, there is a definite process for how actionable recommendations evolve and gain acceptance. When I say “process” I’m revealing that much of communication is built upon protocols. To a degree, communication process can be compared to software development process—to coding.  

But don’t misunderstand. Though the analogy to coding is insightful, the behavioral consequences of communication are far more unpredictable and the inferences can be strikingly different and even more political. Still, basic processes exist for many communication competencies. Once internalized these communication processes (I prefer “rhetorical processes”) can be applied and adapted to differing contexts and interactions. In short, there is specific, learnable process for how actionable recommendations can have a better chance of gaining support.

Best, Most Hilarious, Politico Introduction of Mayor Pete Buttegieg

I couldn't stop laughing when Buttigieg introduced himself this way: "This is the only chance you'll ever get to vote for a Maltese-American, left-handed, Episcopalian, gay, war veteran, mayor millennial." Now that's what I call authenticity.

Here's how Andrew Sullivan compared Buttigieg to Trump:

Trump would be the oldest president in history at 74; Buttigieg would be the youngest at 39. Trump landed in politics via his money and celebrity after years in the limelight; Buttigieg is the mayor of a midsize midwestern town, unknown until a few weeks ago. Trump is a pathological, malevolent narcissist from New York, breaking all sorts of norms. Buttigieg is a modest, reasonable pragmatist, and a near parody of normality. Trump thrives on a retro heterosexual persona; Buttigieg appears to be a rather conservative, married homosexual. Trump is a coward and draft dodger; Buttigieg served his country. Trump does not read; Buttigieg does. Trump’s genius is demonic demagoguery. Buttigieg’s gig is careful reasoning. Trump is a pagan; Buttigieg is a Christian. Trump vandalizes government; Buttigieg nurtures it.

To put it simply, Mayor Pete seems almost designed to expose everything that makes the country tired of Trump.

So the President is a MotherF**ker??

On several occasions I've written about swearing and rhetoric as well as about expletive naming. In a recent article, Emma Byrne adds to my ideas by writing about the "scientific case for calling the president a motherf*cker."   Byrne especially likes the Rep. Rashida Tlaib's remark, noting that she used the swear word in rhetorically correct fashion.  As Byrne writes, rhetoric reveals that this kind of language signals trust and a sense of belonging--and it also "fosters closeness and suggests a greater degree of authenticity."

Tlaib's swearing differs significantly from Trump's graphic description of sexual advances and his assault of women. While Trump's language intensifies feelings of disgust and revulsion, Tlaib's language has an instinct for the power of words and and the feelings of her colleagues and constituency. There's a sense of comeuppance in her language. It just feels good to say what she's saying about him.

One of the more intriguing insights that Byrne brings to her book on swearing is the distinction, the shit-fuck ratio, of these two swear words. "Shit" is inevitably negative, and  I'm aware of only one positive use of the term, a use that I've never heard except from my Methodist Grandmother Butterworth. She was born and raised in Arkansas and settled in Western Kentucky, spending most of her life as the widowed owner of a tobacco farm. Her world was late 19th and first half of the twentieth century. She used it to refer to me when I said or did something that was "smart alecky." In a positive, and humorous comment--and with a smile--she'd call me "a little shit." I understood it as a high compliment.

Fifty Years of Curiosity

For more than 50 years, I’ve been trying to understand why dealing with powerful people was initially so nerve-wracking and scary. When I told one of my daughters about these fears, she was shocked. “But dad,” she responded, “you’re a very powerful and intelligent guy yourself.” That’s not where I started out. Fact of the matter, in a piece of feedback at my 50^th high school anniversary, eight of my classmates said they didn’t really recognize me. When I asked why, they responded in unison that the guy they knew as “Dan” was “shy, quiet and withdrawn.” Not the Dan sitting in front of them in 2002.

What changed it all was that I understood that if I was to be successful in my vocation, I’d have to change my behaviors—drastically. I was very fortunate. With tons of education, mentoring and feedback, I was able to make the changes. Though obvious now, for a long time I failed to understand my shyness and withdrawal. I thought it was just a natural characteristic.

Where fear comes from
I grew up with a highly narcissistic mother. Going through the psychiatric classification of mental disorders, the DSM-5, I noted that she knocked seven of the nine defining narcissistic categories out of the ballpark. As my brother said over her grave, she was a “mean lady.” I learned early on that I’d have to work hard to please her, take care of her, defer to her opinions and agree with how she understood the world. Of course, I also learned that if I disagreed or didn’t do what she expected, she was liable to abuse me emotionally and withdraw any and all rewards. 

So, going away to college—far, far away, offered freedom at last...

If you want to be great at something, who should you learn from?

In an absolutely fascinating opinion article, Adam Grant opined that "those who can do, can't teach." I laughed as soon as I saw the title. It was pretty clear to me where he was going. Grant argues rightly that the greatest experts in a subject are not necessarily the best teachers. My usual way of getting to this issue is to tell an entry-level person that the best coach will never be more than two levels above you. Beyond that, the expert will be highly abstract, assume the unassumable about you, and won't be able to put the skills in a concrete package.

But Grant's way of going at the issue is so very useful, it needs to be added to your toolkit for coach selection. 

First, pay attention to how long since the teacher studied the material. Ignore the top universities' boast about how most of their classes are taught by top faculty. The best teachers are probably grad students who just learned the material and know what it's like to be a beginner. In my post-doc work, I signed up for a course in adult learning and was initially disappointed that it was going to be taught by a teaching assistant, a grad student in his last year of PhD. From the start, he surprised me with his thoroughness. Later in the semester the top prof in the field subbed for his grad student when he had a bad case of the flu. Wow, was I glad the TA was teaching. The expert couldn't get the cookies on the bottom shelf for us no matter how many questions we asked...