Shooting The Messenger When Your Roof Is On Fire
(Because The Messenger's A Jerk, So It's Okay)
This is a general sort of post on the multifaceted subject of How Not To Be A Tool, concerning a behavior so common and widespread that I'm not going to single anybody out with examples, because I've seen the same bloggers complaining about it being done to them turn around and do it themselves to somebody else without realizing it, and it's one of those situations that come out of human nature, not ideology. (Shorter P@L: if you suspect I'm refering to you personally, "--Search your feelings, Luke!" 'cause that's where the answer lies, and if you suspect that I am, then I probably am, even if I don't realize it...)
So let's say that someone shows up and points out that Houston, there may be a tiny little bit of a bit of a problem, and maybe you might want to look into doing something to fix that, before the problem gets worse, stitch-in-time and so on, and in the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure way of things in Parable Land, there are two possible responses to this message: You discover that several Alpha Centauri spiceweed seeds have fallen out of their cryogenic storage containers and started to sprout in your hold! so you have to pull them out of the ship and spend your profits on repairing the damage, while if you choose the second option, a few more interludes pass and then you find out that your spaceship has disintegrated mid-warp because those spiceweed seeds didn't just sprout, they went on to grow into baobab-sized monstrosities whose roots have just cracked the housing on your turbofusion drive, so too bad, you're DEAD! and you have to go back to the beginning of the book and try to make better decisions next time.
And of course in the Goofus-n-Gallant mode of such fables, the right answer to the story-problem is obvious, as is the wrong one. Who would be so stupid as to refuse to look into a warned-of problem, everyone scoffs. But suppose the warner isn't some polite, timid, shy-and-retiring do-gooder type who gently and unthreateningly suggests that there's a chance you could have a problem? Suppose it's a bossy Spaceport Bureaucrat who's chewing you out for not using the right kind of freight loading equipment, and warning you that by using the Acme Arm to move cryocartons, you are risking disaster? Suppose s/he's some scruffy, unwashed, snaggle-grinning mocker who calls you "Bozo" (or worse) and tells you that you're gonna end up like all the other fools who think they can steer the Spaceways without knowing the rules, unless you learn right quick--?
Obviously, in the context of the story, this isn't going to change a thing. Either there are, or there are not, biohazardous materials in the hold, and the fact that the person telling you this is at best unappealing and at worst a complete scoundrel is not going to change that fact, or the outcome, by one iota.
Not if this were a real scenario, at least, instead of a parable written to reinforce various meta Narratives of society - which being the case, in such a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure setting might well end up with You, Gentle Reader being wrong to "waste" the time checking your hold, only to learn that the Spaceport Bureaucrat was overreacting and exaggerating the risk of breaking the rules, or the scraggly smelly Space Drifter was just yanking your chain for the fun of watching you panic and rush around, and this might even result in you missing some crucial (if unknown) deadline and losing out on a great reward or being stuck still on-planet when the Death Star Killer Moon-Sized Space Station shows up to blast everyone to atoms.
But probably you would still end up with choices same as at first, because Don't Shoot The Messenger! is one of those old and venerated memes which frequently gets used in Evil Overlord scenarios (q.v. #32) just to show that Pride Goeth and all that. And of course nobody wants to think of themselves as possessed of irrational hubris, do we?
But get out of the safe shallow end of the meme pool and out into the rolling breakers of realtime unscripted human interaction, and we forget all of this, and start saying "No, I'm NOT going to check the hold, because you're just a petty tyrant/scruffy creep with a nasty laugh and you're not going to be warning me in good faith, so I don't have to listen to you NEENER NEENER NEENER!!!" meanwhile turning around and haranguing people who are themselves saying "You're just a petty tyrant/scruffy creep and I'm not going to listen to ANYTHING you say b/c YUR A M33N13, LALALALALA!!!1! " for being irrational and in denial and so forth.
I mean - going back to the original analogy of the title - it could very well be that your nextdoor neighbors are a bunch of losers, the sort of people who laugh when you slip taking out the trash, who throw rocks at your dog, who run over your mailbox and claim it wasn't them even though you saw they did it, who never read and don't think and have no virtues such as the milk of human kindness to compensate, whose only amusement is pointing and laughing at other people's misfortunes. Maybe they really are that awful, and if so it's certainly worth taking anything that seems to be a helpful sort of act from them with a whole saltshaker. The messenger's nature does have to be considered after all: the things a known pathological liar or con artist say are not reasonably to be given the same benefit-of-doubt as a random stranger's.
But if your sleazy neighbor knocks on your door and tells you your chimney is on fire, you should of cleaned out that creosote already, dummy, it's possible they're a) wrong and it isn't really on fire, b) lying just for the kick of seeing you panic and call 911, and the humiliation you will experience when it turns out to be a false alarm - but it would be stupid, and self-destructively irresponsible, not to do a Reality Check to see if what they were claiming was in fact the case.
--Not, however, as stupid as finding out that your chimney was, in fact, merrily ablaze, and refusing to call the fire department because that would mean "giving in" or giving the victory somehow to your utterly-unworthy neighbor who is only telling you about the fire to see your dismay and rejoice at it, and thus staying proudly in your burning domicile...
Here endeth the lesson
This is a general sort of post on the multifaceted subject of How Not To Be A Tool, concerning a behavior so common and widespread that I'm not going to single anybody out with examples, because I've seen the same bloggers complaining about it being done to them turn around and do it themselves to somebody else without realizing it, and it's one of those situations that come out of human nature, not ideology. (Shorter P@L: if you suspect I'm refering to you personally, "--Search your feelings, Luke!" 'cause that's where the answer lies, and if you suspect that I am, then I probably am, even if I don't realize it...)
So let's say that someone shows up and points out that Houston, there may be a tiny little bit of a bit of a problem, and maybe you might want to look into doing something to fix that, before the problem gets worse, stitch-in-time and so on, and in the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure way of things in Parable Land, there are two possible responses to this message: You discover that several Alpha Centauri spiceweed seeds have fallen out of their cryogenic storage containers and started to sprout in your hold! so you have to pull them out of the ship and spend your profits on repairing the damage, while if you choose the second option, a few more interludes pass and then you find out that your spaceship has disintegrated mid-warp because those spiceweed seeds didn't just sprout, they went on to grow into baobab-sized monstrosities whose roots have just cracked the housing on your turbofusion drive, so too bad, you're DEAD! and you have to go back to the beginning of the book and try to make better decisions next time.
And of course in the Goofus-n-Gallant mode of such fables, the right answer to the story-problem is obvious, as is the wrong one. Who would be so stupid as to refuse to look into a warned-of problem, everyone scoffs. But suppose the warner isn't some polite, timid, shy-and-retiring do-gooder type who gently and unthreateningly suggests that there's a chance you could have a problem? Suppose it's a bossy Spaceport Bureaucrat who's chewing you out for not using the right kind of freight loading equipment, and warning you that by using the Acme Arm to move cryocartons, you are risking disaster? Suppose s/he's some scruffy, unwashed, snaggle-grinning mocker who calls you "Bozo" (or worse) and tells you that you're gonna end up like all the other fools who think they can steer the Spaceways without knowing the rules, unless you learn right quick--?
Obviously, in the context of the story, this isn't going to change a thing. Either there are, or there are not, biohazardous materials in the hold, and the fact that the person telling you this is at best unappealing and at worst a complete scoundrel is not going to change that fact, or the outcome, by one iota.
Not if this were a real scenario, at least, instead of a parable written to reinforce various meta Narratives of society - which being the case, in such a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure setting might well end up with You, Gentle Reader being wrong to "waste" the time checking your hold, only to learn that the Spaceport Bureaucrat was overreacting and exaggerating the risk of breaking the rules, or the scraggly smelly Space Drifter was just yanking your chain for the fun of watching you panic and rush around, and this might even result in you missing some crucial (if unknown) deadline and losing out on a great reward or being stuck still on-planet when the Death Star Killer Moon-Sized Space Station shows up to blast everyone to atoms.
But probably you would still end up with choices same as at first, because Don't Shoot The Messenger! is one of those old and venerated memes which frequently gets used in Evil Overlord scenarios (q.v. #32) just to show that Pride Goeth and all that. And of course nobody wants to think of themselves as possessed of irrational hubris, do we?
But get out of the safe shallow end of the meme pool and out into the rolling breakers of realtime unscripted human interaction, and we forget all of this, and start saying "No, I'm NOT going to check the hold, because you're just a petty tyrant/scruffy creep with a nasty laugh and you're not going to be warning me in good faith, so I don't have to listen to you NEENER NEENER NEENER!!!" meanwhile turning around and haranguing people who are themselves saying "You're just a petty tyrant/scruffy creep and I'm not going to listen to ANYTHING you say b/c YUR A M33N13, LALALALALA!!!1! " for being irrational and in denial and so forth.
I mean - going back to the original analogy of the title - it could very well be that your nextdoor neighbors are a bunch of losers, the sort of people who laugh when you slip taking out the trash, who throw rocks at your dog, who run over your mailbox and claim it wasn't them even though you saw they did it, who never read and don't think and have no virtues such as the milk of human kindness to compensate, whose only amusement is pointing and laughing at other people's misfortunes. Maybe they really are that awful, and if so it's certainly worth taking anything that seems to be a helpful sort of act from them with a whole saltshaker. The messenger's nature does have to be considered after all: the things a known pathological liar or con artist say are not reasonably to be given the same benefit-of-doubt as a random stranger's.
But if your sleazy neighbor knocks on your door and tells you your chimney is on fire, you should of cleaned out that creosote already, dummy, it's possible they're a) wrong and it isn't really on fire, b) lying just for the kick of seeing you panic and call 911, and the humiliation you will experience when it turns out to be a false alarm - but it would be stupid, and self-destructively irresponsible, not to do a Reality Check to see if what they were claiming was in fact the case.
--Not, however, as stupid as finding out that your chimney was, in fact, merrily ablaze, and refusing to call the fire department because that would mean "giving in" or giving the victory somehow to your utterly-unworthy neighbor who is only telling you about the fire to see your dismay and rejoice at it, and thus staying proudly in your burning domicile...
Here endeth the lesson