On the recent drive back to the Charleston airport I had one of those head-smacking moments when I realized I had failed to chime in about some “going public” thoughts that I had lost track of at the meeting. I neglected to raise the issue of timing and the “continuum of going public”. Similarly, I failed to suggest some sort of checklist for “going public” with projects.

I tend to see “going public” as a continuum that involves our “products”, our process, and our “branding”. This involves some sense of timing since in the order of things it is easier and more helpful to arrange or anticipate some opportunities at some junctures more than others. So I would like to make the case that we apply our anticipatory approach to the “going public” case as well.

Many of the possibilities for “going public” can be worked on during the pre-project phase. Extended networking for panel recruitment often yields contacts who cannot participate as panelists, but do remain interested in the outcome. Greater thought may be given to the “going public” opportunities an area of concern might yield and those considerations could well serve as factors in IF evaluation of the suitability of an area of concern.

This brings me to the second of my “lost ideas” missed at the last meeting: the “going public checklist”. Such a checklist would include actions to be considered at the project’s end when the report is in hand, but would be included in the original project proposal. It requires project managers to think about positioning themselves for these actions before the panels ever meet. Such a checklist might include the following:

• Initial contacts made in the course of developing the area of concern that might prove useful in eliciting feedback on the report.
• Assessment of likely opportunities for report discussion within other groups (professional, educational, etc).
• Communication with IF-associated faculty to determine potential for report use in classrooms and campus discussions.
• Pre-arrangement of presentations on projects and reports at conferences of other public conversation groups.
• Collection of websites, list-serves, and social media points of contact where the reports could ultimately be announced and posted.
• Planning for developmental discussion of draft reports with target audiences.

Other factors could certainly come into play. And it may not be a matter of doing all these things in advance of the project. Some possibilities for “going public” will accrue in the course of the project and after it. Just as we have tried to be more “seamless” in transitions between projects, we can be continuously mindful that our reports do not advance the cause of democratic governance conversation if they are simply filed away on shelves.

“Quite often good things have hurtful consequences. There are instances of men

who have been ruined by their money or killed by their courage”

Aristotle

Actions have consequences. Whatever we do in both our private and public lives has consequences. The policies that we enact on the local, state, and national levels affect individuals, groups, and society at large—and they may do so in different ways. I even heard someone recently argue that policies do not matter that much, and what matters in the real world are their consequences. There are, however, all sorts of consequences—but we rarely consider the wide range of effects that our actions and policies may have in the heat and excitement of making policy decisions, where we tend to focus narrowly upon their desirable consequences. If that is true, then the discussions of the great variety of potential consequences should have a much more prominent place in our public policy discussions than they usually do.

One of the most prevalent comments about the consequences that I hear is that they are either ‘good’ or ‘bad’. It is understandable why people may talk this way about the consequences of their actions in their personal lives. But I do not think that this is an appropriate way to talk about the consequences of our policies, because the actions we take to implement them will typically benefit people with certain values, interests, and goals and hurt those with different values, interests, and goals. I think that it would be better to simply talk about their possible consequences without assigning them the moral attributes of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ that too often plague our public policy discussions and contribute to the lack of civility in them.

Another problem is that people tend to talk almost exclusively about a policy’s desirable consequences. But the reality is that we can never know exactly what the consequences of implementing any policy will be, because the world is too interconnected and complex, and the future too uncertain, for any one mind to comprehend what the consequences of an implementation will actually be. There is, however, still a value in discussing more and less likely consequences. I think that it is very important to try to discuss and understand at least some of a policy’s undesirable or unintended consequences—because in some cases, the harm of failing short of a desired consequence is greater than if we never attempted to do anything at all. One could argue, for example, that the policy aims of the Soviet Union—equality and brotherhood—were noble and admirable, but that the failure to achieve them resulted in an oppressive, ruthless, and inhumane political regime.

It is also important to understand that inaction has consequences as well. It is true that a focus upon possible undesirable consequences may lead to inaction. In some cases, inaction may be good. Not creating the Soviet Union at all, for example, would have been the best policy. In other cases, the costs and consequences associated with inaction may lead to ruin, and even to the destruction of our planet and life as we know it, as proponents of the theory of human caused global warming claim. The problem, of course, is how to tell which is which.

Finally, I think that the main blind spot in our thinking about the possible consequences of our policies is that we too often focus on quick fixes and short-term solutions and ignore their possible long-term effects. Such myopic vision is the bane of our times and election driven democratic political systems. Consider the recent example of how America went to war to bring freedom and liberty to Iraqi people and preempt attacks on our soil. These were clearly admirable goals. But one of the consequences of our policy, after nearly ten years of fighting, is that our financial prosperity and security is gone, along with the financial security that our children, and our grandchildren might have had—and future Americans will have to pay off an inherited debt with huge interest for generations to come. It is thus always important to talk about the possible consequences of our policies—and especially the possible undesirable consequences of our policies and their implementations—and to ask ourselves, over and again, what might happen if our policies and the actions that we take to implement them do not go entirely according to the best-laid plans.

It is important to understand that these differences are conceptual in nature and not simply about how to do the math, or even the ethics for that matter. The math and the ethics, on the contrary, kick in only after you have decided what we should take into account to determine someone’s ‘fair share’. So while it may be common sense that billionaires should pay their ‘fair share’ of taxes, it simply does not follow, a fortiori or by any rule of inference known to logic, that billionaires are not already paying it, or that a billionaire should pay proportionately at least as much as his or her secretary pays.

Why not? Partly because we would first need to determine what a billionaire’s ‘fair share’ might be, and partly because the idea that a billionaire should pay proportionately at least as much as his or her secretary pays in taxes goes well beyond the idea that we should all pay our ‘fair share’. For it presumes, first of all, that a progressive system of taxation in which different people are subject to different tax obligations is itself fair; and because it presumes, secondly, that someone’s ‘fair share’ is to be conceived as relative to his or her income (or wealth); and because it presumes, thirdly, that it should be calculated as a percentage of it. This is clearly one concept of what a ‘fair share’ might be. But it is just as clearly not the only one. And to ignore the fact that it is not the only one only raises the emotions while skirting the real issue. For one may also think that a system in which different people are subject to different rates of taxation­—-or even different dollar amounts—-relative to differences in their income (or wealth) is inherently unfair. One might ask whether we would regard such an arrangement as ‘fair’ or ‘just’ in any other situation. Do you think, for example, that it is ‘fair’ for someone to charge you more than another person for a house or a car or a gallon of gas or a loaf of bread just because you can afford to pay it? If not, then you might conclude that the only reason why some people think the rich should pay more taxes than the poor or middle class is because they know that the poor and middle class are unable to pay their ‘fair share’.

This is not an argument against progressive taxation—-or an argument that billionaires are already paying their ‘fair share’. It is only to point out that there are different conceptual possibilities when it comes to thinking about how to determine someone’s ‘fair share’. It is common sense that billionaires should pay it, whatever it might be. But why should we think that this means they should pay a greater percentage on their billions than someone should pay on his or her thousands? Aren’t there other factors here that someone might want to take into to account—-just to be ‘fair’? Why shouldn’t we think, for example, that a person’s ‘fair share’ of taxes should be determined relative to his or her consumption of the government services for which those tax dollars pay? And what about the differences in the absolute dollar amounts that different people might pay?

I do not know how much money a billionaire might pay his secretary. I suspect it differs. But fifteen per cent of a taxable income of one billion dollars is one hundred, fifty million dollars—-a sum that most people cannot even imagine, let alone pay. The tax rate on a taxable income of fifty thousand dollars is fifteen percent—-or seven thousand, five hundred dollars. But the ‘effective rate’—-as some politicians, talk show pundits, and other traveling salesmen call it in a different but not entirely unrelated context—-seems more like zero percent. For many people who have a taxable income of fifty thousand dollars a year, and nearly half the country, apparently pay no income tax at all.

But even if we agree that someone’s ‘fair share’ should be related to his income, and even if we agree that it should be a percentage of his income, why should we think that people with larger incomes should pay a greater percentage of their income than people with smaller incomes—-or that the percentage that they pay should also be relative to their marital status, or to how they file their taxes? Why, in other words, should we think that a married couple filing jointly with a taxable income of forty-seven, three hundred and fifty dollars should pay fifteen percent of it in taxes, and that a married couple filing jointly with a taxable income of forty-seven thousand, three hundred and fifty-one dollars should pay twenty-five percent of it in taxes? And why should we think that it is fair for a single person to pay a greater percentage of his or her taxable income than a married couple filing jointly—-or that married people filing separately should pay a greater percentage of their taxable income than they would if they filed jointly?

How can we even begin to think about what someone’s ‘fair share’ might be in this kind of situation—-let alone be so clear and certain about it, as so many people these days apparently seem to be?

Karl Marx famously envisioned a world in which goods would be distributed ‘from each according to their ability to each according to their needs’. This is an idea that appeals to those with few abilities and many needs. But Willie Sutton just as famously explained that he robbed banks because ‘that’s where the money is’. It is easy to understand how people with little money and many needs might have trouble imagining how people with more money could possibly need it. But it should also be easy to understand how people with more money and correspondingly larger horizons  might have a different idea.

The flyer said that ‘trust is the social capital on which our democratic institutions depend’, that ‘lack of trust divides Americans over issues of politics, race, ethnicity, religion, and around social issues’, that ‘it keeps us from doing big things together and being our best as a country’, that ‘civility is important but it’s just a beginning’, and that ‘trustbuilding means honest conversation, acknowledgment of injustices and wrongs, apology, and a commitment to work together for a future of hope and opportunity for all’.

I fully agree that trust is a large part of the social capital upon which our democratic institutions depend—-and that a breakdown of trust currently divides Americans over many issues. I also agree that civility is just a beginning for building trust, and that honest conversation is very important. But I am far less clear that civility is actually necessary for building trust, or that building trust means honest conversation, acknowledgment of injustices and wrongs, apology, and a commitment to work together for a future of hope and opportunity for all. All of this may set a tone. But everything is what it is and nothing else. And ‘trust’ means a firm belief in the reliability, honesty, ability, or strength of someone or something.

It is only fifteen years since Francis Fukuyama characterized the United States as a high trust society—-and there can be little doubt that most Americans trust their government and their fellow citizens more than people do in many other countries. But an honest conversation about trust in the United States today would have to focus upon the fact that many Americans no longer have as firm a belief in the reliability, honesty, ability, and strength of their government and their fellow citizens as they once did­—-and with good reason.

The simple fact of the matter is that we have all become accustomed to, if not complacent with, a little bit of fraud­ in our government, our fellow citizens, and, indeed, ourselves. It is important to be honest about this. But being honest about it will not restore trust all by itself. Whether it is possible to restore trust in our society, and how to go about doing it, is an entirely different matter. It is a lot like trying to restore trust in a marriage that has been broken through infidelity. Ronald Reagan famously said ‘Trust, but verify!’ But my own sense is that restoring trust will probably depend a lot more upon what we do than upon what we say or how we say it.

It will depend, among other things, upon our government being honest with us, even when it cannot be entirely open with us—-and especially about being honest that it cannot be entirely open with us.

It will depend upon our political leaders showing us that they care more about our long-term welfare than about being reelected.

It will depend upon our businesses, including our financial institutions, offering us dependable products.

It will depend upon our workers putting in an honest day’s work.

It will depend upon our students working hard to achieve the most that they can possibly achieve.

It will depend upon our not taking on more debt than we can pay, and upon our paying back our debts on time.

It will depend upon our not trying to game the system to achieve social benefits or services for which we are not eligible.

And it will depend upon our being honest with ourselves, and each other, about what we can and cannot do.

Civil and honest conversations, acknowledgments of injustices and wrongs, apologies, and commitments to work together for a future of hope and opportunity for all are all good words. But good words, even when backed by good intentions, do not by themselves add up to, or necessarily even inspire, a firm belief in the reliability, honesty, ability, and strength of our government, our fellow citizens, and ourselves—-not without a long record of good actions that correspond to them.

Indeed, one of the central features of a breakdown in trust is the rising belief that they are all just words.

I was amused to discover that most Americans make similar New Year’s resolutions—among the most popular ones are ‘to lose weight’, ‘to get fit’, ‘to manage debt’, ‘to get a better education or a job’, ‘to save money’, ‘to take a trip’, and ‘to spend more time with family and friends’. A lot of things could be said about these resolutions, but all of them seem rather practical to me. What about more creative and daring New Year’s resolutions?

I will let you ponder what that may mean for your personally. I would like, however, to suggest just one. What about trying to think in terms of possibilities and trying to understand perspectives radically different from your own?

That is one of the New Year’s resolutions I set for myself. I think it will be a fun, enlightening, and challenging daily exercise. But if statistics is any guide, very, very few people actually achieve the goals they set as New Year’s resolutions. So maybe one of our New Year’s resolutions should be to achieve at least one of our New Year’s resolutions! But like most resolutions aimed at improving ourselves, we are better off striving to improve ourselves than giving up before even trying.

Finally, I recently read that people are more likely to achieve their goals if they share them, and work toward achieving them, with other people. Thank God for peer pressure! If this is true, and if you are attracted to the goal of thinking from many different perspectives, I would like to invite you to join our public discussions of IF reports that present contrasting policy possibilities that address various areas of concern including—food, family, education, property, and science in general.

I fully realize that the most straightforward answer, which likely accounts for most of the appeal, is simply the stultifying repetition of the phrase within the game. It has become an all too well recognized shtick (or a “snowclone phrasal template,” go ahead Google it) to which you can attach nearly any other phrase or idea and be (almost) funny. As in “I used to write marginally interesting and meaningful blog entries, but then I took an arrow to the knee.”

But I also think there’s just a little bit more than repetition and pattern recognition/disruption at work here. In an almost unspeakably violent fantasy culture in which characters frequently fight on (and on and on) after enduring much greater bodily injury (loss of limb, head, and/or gallons of blood), the suggestion that an adventurer might be inexorably maimed and tamed by a mere “arrow in the knee” is both consciously ironic and a bit suggestive of our highly precarious and vulnerable lives on this side of the high resolution monitor(s).

In the somewhat less-virtual—and too often remarkably less virtuous world—we endure all sorts of slings and arrows in the knee all the time. Individually, we inevitably suffer all manner of insult, injury—and then there’s that death thing. All too often life is in fact solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. And collectively as well, far too many of our shared efforts seem crippled by multiple (often self-inflicted) arrows in the knee.

Fortunately, we’ve also got multiple healers and methods for removing the arrows. The smile for a stranger, the listening ear, the tender touch, the helping hand, the charitable donations of skill, time, and treasure, and the shared joke or toy or meal or gaming cheat code: all these and more help remove the arrows and heal their wounds. And in their best and perhaps most essential form, the various dialogic and deliberative methods for group discussion, including those practiced by the Interactivity Foundation, can help to provide safe spaces, safe operating and recovery rooms, where we can assist each other in removing the arrows, healing our wounds, and becoming—even if only for a short time—“adventurers” again.

Now my sons tell me I have to find a Wabbajack before I’m attacked by a thief/assassin wielding a Blade of Woe. And where I’d leave that damn phrasal template again?

There are various schools of thought among IF facilitators about which kind or type of conceptual possibility might serve as the most useful starting point for these explorations.  Some think it’s best to start with the most provocative possibility, in order to get participants engaged in the discussion.  Another view is that it’s wise to begin with the first possibility listed in the IF discussion Report, since those who produced it carefully considered which should come first.  Still another approach is to open up the discussion with a “gateway” possibility, i.e. one that quickly attunes participants to the fullest range of conceptual questions at issue in the Report.  A final tack might best to “follow your group” and begin with whatever they seem most interested in–or whatever might most challenge them.

Personally, while I think these is some wisdom in all of these suggestions, I also think it’s far more important to start slowly than to get the starting point right.    And by that I mean pausing to review the short versions of all of the possibilities in the Report before discussing any one in depth.  I think there’s a lot to be gained by spending a few minutes having discussants take a careful look at the forest before they start exploring individual trees.   Here are some of the specific benefits–in ascending order of importance–that result from pausing for a comprehensive, if brief, look at the full range of possibilities in an IF Report before discussing individual possibilities:

• greater appreciation for and attention to the content of the Report
• enhanced grasp of the nature and degree of contrast among and between the possibilities in the Report
• greater openness to interactivity between conceptual possibilities (whether actually represented in the Report or not)
• dampening of the (natural) tendency to “vote” on individual possibilities as they’re discussed
• muting of advocacy, debate, argument
• setting the stage for an exploratory approach to discussion (by reminding discussants that there are multiple possibilities)

Given all of these advantages, and the small time investment required to achieve them, my advice would be have public discussion participants look first at the forest, then at the individual trees.