End Equivocation. Read a Book.

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I have always loved definitions. Knowing a word's full function is liberating to me. Once there is definition, I know I have a way to truly represent my intentions, beliefs, and actions. It is incredible, the power of a word!

But what happens when the meaning and definitions of words are in constant flux? How do humans communicate with one another when particular words are chock full of social conflict? Several things can happen. What happened to me, is I stopped using certain words. Then, the equivocation began.

You see, when you refuse to use certain words due to potential social conflict, you either surrender the definition of those words and create new words (which carries problems of its own) or you spend endless hours tiptoeing around what it is you truly mean to say. This prevents important social needs such as confrontation, correction, discourse, and contemplation.

And what better arena to practice the art of equivocation than in the world of social media. My relationship with Facebook has a been a long and sometimes tortuous one. I could point to the rapid evolution (or devolution as some would argue) to the function of social media sites like Facebook as the cause of my stress. I could name countless articles about the founders of sites like Facebook that admit to using psychological tricks similar to slot machines, manipulating the endorphins in your brain to keep coming back. I could point to the obvious political division that is so obviously further stoked by foreign influences and other less than neutral actors. All these topics would be valid and are worth further conversation and exploration.

But my equivocation started way before these actors arrived on scene. For me, it started with the less than lovely need to please everybody. I have always struggled with the fear of disappointing others. Even if I had no respect or relationship with a person, I felt a need to prove myself important to other people. Because I also have a overwhelming understanding of how little I actually offer to those outside my immediate circle, I did not feel qualified to prove myself important in most areas of life. But one area I have always felt comfortable (even to the detriment of myself and others) is using my mind to try to understand someone not just by the words they use, but everything surrounding their experience and existence.

But how can I fully comprehend someone's experience and existence, especially when it is not spoken? I may be able to imagine. And I think we should. It is the idea of "putting yourself in their shoes." But what then? Once you have imagined what another persons existence and life is like (to the best of your ability with your own prejudices and preconceived ideas), how does this exercise shape our response to those around us?

I often get lost in this question. And it is not always evident.

This brings me to the importance of reading. Over the past 2 years, I have greatly shifted my understanding of the importance of reading. In my early adolescence and well past college, I would describe my relationship with books as a sort of fearful reverence. I had this idea that if someone had a book published, they must have gone through rigorous vetting and be a master of something in this world. For this reason, my reading (mostly in the area of non-fiction and philosophy) was slow. I would not move forward into a book unless I felt as though I fully understood all the nuance of what was being communicated to me. As you may imagine, this made college studies as a history major very challenging at times. Add to that the push to "add something new" to the abundance on historical academic work (most of which I had not actually read), and I was nearly paralyzed in my reading and writing. Who am I to write something new? What do I know? Much like trying to understand the complexity of another person's life from my own perspective, trying to write or engage with a book that is above your comprehension can seem like an impossible feat.

Over the past couple years, I started to read differently. Instead of focusing on becoming an "expert" or wiser than people around me, I started to view reading as exercise. I started with short books that were autobiographical or fictional. Books I didn't feel a need to discuss or dive deep into (which is my tendency). Viewing reading as an exercise helped humble me. Instead of measuring my status based on the books I read (and then inevitably judging myself based on the effort it took for me to begin to comprehend large, complicated books), I shifted my perspective to reading not as a virtue in and of itself, but an exercise in virtue.

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Virtue is a hard word to define, but I love the various aspects of the Latin equivalents (I am no Latin expert, just a Google user). We often think of virtue as a stuffy moralistic person. I think the Latin expands this word to give a picture of strength, honesty, and beauty. Those are rich words.

So why is reading an exercise in virtue? Fist of all, reading requires activity of the mind. Mortimer Adler and Charles Van Doren state, "Since reading of any sort is an activity, all reading must to some degree be active. Completely passive reading is impossible; we can not read with out eyes immobilized and our minds asleep..."(1)

Second, reading books is a conversation in which the reader dialogues with the author without interruption. (2) The reader may pause and ask questions. The reader may even throw the book against the wall (just me?) However, the author is able to complete their part of the conversation without confronting interruption that can easily derail a conversation (as we see happen in social media threads). Not only are books a conversation, they are also knowledge and ideas imparted through the work of the author to the willingness to work of the reader. Steven Gambardella puts it this way, "We accumulate knowledge over time, but books allow us to accumulate the time the writers have given us. Think of books as condensed time." Reading is an exercise in humility and an admission of our own mortality. We do not have the time to know all aspects of truth without nuance. At some point, we must submit ourselves to the knowledge of others, whether we admit we do that or not. Books introduce us to things we may never experience. Books can help us think of things we assume are only in our heads.

Finally, I want to make one final distinction on the exercise in virtue that comes from reading books. It is the distinction Mortimer Adler and Charles Van Doren make in their classic, "How to Read a Book." The following quote explains,

"We do not have to know everything about something in order to understand it; too many facts are often as much of an obstacle to understanding as too few. There is a sense in which we moderns are inundated with facts to the detriment of understanding."

The distinction made here is between knowledge and understanding. We may know (have an ability to verbally repeat) a fact. But knowledge does not assure that we understand the meaning of that fact. This is a question I have had to ask myself when engaging in serious dialogues online: Am I seeking to share knowledge or am I seeking to understand? Sharing knowledge is not a bad thing. There is definitely a place for it, especially if it is an area you are qualified to speak on (for me, this is generally conversations surrounding law enforcement). It is equally good to seek understanding on an issue, whether you are knowledgeable on it or not.

Here is what you cannot do: You cannot impart understanding. Another way of saying this is, you cannot make someone understand what you understand.

How does this get back to equivocation? Why do I spend so much time equivocating on terms? Fear of being misunderstood. But if we don't define our terms, we will inevitably be misunderstood and rightly so! Not only that, but we will fail to seek to understand others on their terms(3). Join me in the process of ending equivocation. Start with reading a book.

(1) Adler, M. J., & Doren, C. V. (2014). Chapter 1. In How to read a book (p. 4). New York, NY: Simon & Schuster.

(2) Ibid, (pgs. 11-15)

(3) Ibid, (pgs. 96-100)