The temptation itself is divided. The devil on my treblin side is tugging at my earlobe, urging the immediate knocking together of heads. The angel on my hamman side, patting me on the shoulder, murmers that there is no honor in potentially prolonging a conflict merely for the opportunity to express my own opinion.
"But, you might talk some sense into everyone," entices Treblin.
Hamman grimaces at the arrogance of that thought. "Remember all those times your parents chided you for having Last Word Syndrome? Hmmm? What's your real motive for sticking your oar in now, anyway?"
Good question. Why am I feeling compelled to wade in, just as the waters are starting to settle?
There's really no getting around it — the answer to all of the above has to be, "yes". Even the most valid of motives cannot possibly be free from an individual's own personal shortcomings and limitations. So, let's put that on the table right upfront. But, looking at that list of questions, it's the last one that I really want to address. How could my viewpoint not be affected by almost four decades of experiences, good and bad? It's obvious to me that those experiences are framing my perspective now, and one in particular has been especially on my mind this month.
For the bulk of my college years, I was active in the campus's emergency services team. By the end of my tenure, I was a senior EMT, an assistant EMT instructor, a CPR instructor, and had served on the executive staff as both Secretary and Public Relations officer. I had put my creative talents to use designing and sewing the team's banner for events. I had sweet-talked the campus administration into providing us with dedicated office space at no charge. I had helped outfit a new emergency response vehicle, right down to the reflective EMS decals on the doors. My significant other was on the team. My roommate was on the team. My social circle was composed almost entirely of team members. By the time I graduated, I was on duty and carrying a pager 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
In short, it was a total immersion experience, which completely consumed my life. And I loved it. I loved being part of a close-knit community. I loved the friends I made. I loved making a significant difference in people's lives, when they were ill or injured. I loved growing as a person as a result of those experiences.
I also hated it. I hated the external politics, squabbling with a liability-wary university, but even more, I hated the internal politics of the clique-plagued team itself. I hated the in-fighting, the schemes to get someone on or off the executive committee, the petty arguments over things like whether or not we should be in full formal uniforms when we were on duty.
Looking back with a saner perspective, twenty years down the line, I see the organizational dynamic more clearly. We were young, and idealistic, and dedicated, and most of all, passionate about what we were doing. There weren't any good guys or bad guys, there were just a whole lot of people with boundless energy, tons of ideas, and an intense desire to be involved, to contribute, to have a voice. It was natural that some of our ideas would be in conflict. It was natural that passionate people sometimes let ego get in the way of professionalism, sometimes let personal relationships interfere with their focus on a task. Sometimes I stood above the fray; other times I was the guiltiest party in the room.
I can't help but see parallels to recent developments in scaperdom. There have been arguments, some petty, some deeply philosophical. There have been personality clashes that distracted from the spirit of the effort. And there's been a whole lot of confusion on the part of those of us not directly privy to whatever the frell is going on behind the scenes.
And you know what? There still aren't any good guys or bad guys. There are just a whole lot of people with boundless energy, tons of ideas, and an intense desire to be involved, to contribute, to have a voice. It's natural that some of our ideas will be in conflict. It's natural that as passionate people, we sometimes let ego get in the way of professionalism, sometimes let personal relationships interfere with our focus on a task. Sometimes we stand above the fray; other times we're each the guiltiest party in the room.
Conflict is okay. Not desirable, but okay. Like the annual flooding of the Nile, it makes a mess of things for a while, but when it recedes, it leaves behind renewed soil, ready to be reseeded for fresh growth. I'm not worried about the long-term health of the scaper community. This too shall pass, and we may find ourselves healthier for it in the long run, as long as we face the issues raised, head-on.
Posted at February 24, 2004 12:00 AM in Fandom , Social Order