Issues

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us. . .”

So begins Charles Dickens’ novel, A Tale of Two Cities, set in France and England before and during the French Revolution. Aristocracy. Oppression. Revolution. Reign of Terror. A continual cycle of people grasping for their perceived needs and rights at the expense of others doing the same.

Fast forward from 1792 to 1992. Four Los Angeles police officers are acquitted of severely beating Rodney King (despite video evidence of the act). Days of riot, looting, deaths, and billions of dollars in damage. At the time it was called the most destructive period of local unrest in U.S. history. On May 1, 1992, during a televised press conference, Rodney King made a plea that echoed around the world: “Can’t we all just get along?”

Subsequent analysis of the interview transcript revealed that “Can’t we all just get along?” were not Rodney King’s exact words. Rather, he said, “People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along? Can we get along?” I suppose the precise words don’t really matter. What does matter is that one person – in this case, the actual victim whose brutal experience sparked the whole mess – is calling out everyone to stop and consider what they are doing.

For the past 30 years, Rodney King has been a powerful symbol of the same forces that Dickens embedded in his narrative. A tale of two realities. The ‘best and worst’ always co-exist side by side. ‘Wisdom and foolishness.’ ‘Belief and incredulity.’ ‘Light and darkness.’ ‘Hope and despair.’ All point to the reality that, as a collective humanity, we have the potential for both ‘everything and nothing’ at our fingertips. Worldviews, biases, choices, behaviours. They determine the nature and extent of our respective contribution or hindrance to improving the human condition around us.

Rodney King had reason to be angry. And he probably was. But in the midst of this personal trauma, he rose above his immediate circumstance and invoked a call to ‘best,’ to ‘wisdom,’ to ‘belief,’ to ‘light,’ and to ‘hope.’ Sadly, a simple call to encourage human care and gentleness wasn’t enough. Brute force prevailed to end the Los Angeles riots.

Now dial back from 1992 to October 21, 1967. A march to the Pentagon in protest of the war in Vietnam. Military police are at a standoff with demonstrators. A young man starts placing carnation flowers into the barrels of M14 rifles. An action captured on film in what has become the iconic 1960s ‘Flower Power’ picture, a powerful symbol of peaceful protest.

Perhaps the new version of Rodney King’s words make even more sense than the first. If ‘just get along’ is so difficult to achieve in this world of conflict, maybe ‘just want to say’ is the best we can do. Perhaps it comes down to an individual making a statement, however small and insignificant, in the face of power. Something that challenges the prevailing condition, resets the picture to one of gentle humanity, genuine relationship, and basic goodness.

“Just want to say” and flowers in gun barrels illustrate the strength of human potential. How even one individual can shift the spotlight from mass power to small, but ultimately even more powerful, human actions. Three more examples come to mind: the Tank Man in Tiananmen Square, Sydney Carton at the end of Dickens’ novel, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s final day.

June 5, 1989, in Beijing, China. The Tiananmen Square protests lead to a massive government response. Holding what looks like shopping bags, an unknown man steps in front of a line of tanks. At first the photographer was annoyed. He was trying to get a good shot of the tanks. But international media were captivated by his ‘Tank Man’ picture. It became a major symbol of an individual’s defiance in the face of violent authoritarianism.

In the Dickens novel, Sydney Carton is a rather unsavoury character. Yet by the end he gives himself to die as a substitute for another man. On his way to the guillotine, Carton travels in the same cart as a condemned seamstress. He consoles her fears, comforts the young woman, gives the human touch of a held hand, and offers a parting kiss as she is taken to the guillotine before him. He tells her to look steadily at him and not the ravenous multitude of spectators.

At the end of the novel, Carton’s final words (a silent, internal monologue) offer a powerful moment in English literature. “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” And his final actions vividly embodied those words, and elevated the worst of times to the best.

On April 9, 1945, just weeks before liberation of the Flossenbürg concentration camp, the Nazis executed German pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer on a makeshift gallows. Witnesses present at the time have testified to the noble manner in which Bonhoeffer met his end. Throughout his imprisonment, he was seen as calm, at peace, and a constant encouragement to others. On the day of his execution, Dietrich knelt to pray in his cell then was led out to the gallows, pausing on the way to comfort a fellow prisoner. Amongst his final words were, “This is the end – for me, the beginning of life.”

When I was teaching high school English many years ago, one of the prominent themes in the literature curriculum was called ‘Man’s Inhumanity to Man.’ (Back then the word ‘mankind’ was assumed to refer to all people – other than when it was assumed to be affirming a male-dominated society). Humans’ inhumanity to humans. The annals of history are somewhat defined by these dual, conflicting realities. Humans behaving in the most inhuman ways upon one another.

A tale of two realities.

The best of times. The worst of times. I am thankful for writers and other artists through the ages who have portrayed this dilemma so vividly. Worthy of more respect are actual individuals who have risen above the mainstream of simple personal survival. Those who have dared to make a statement, often with their lives, that transcends all authoritarian instruments of control and oppression.

Even in the most disturbing, the most depressing, and the most disillusioning times, it is good to remember that the genuine human touch is really the only true and lasting power.

I know, it may be ‘cheesy’ to do a spin on Shakespeare’s ‘to be or not to be.’ But it makes the title more appealing than ‘Language Used at Work, at Home, and Everywhere Else‘ (my original title).

My personal history with ‘swear’ words is pretty conservative. When our son was in his mid to later teens, he and a friend were hitching a ride with me to their summer workplace about 6 hours from our home. This event took place 30 years ago. I would have been in my ultra-conservative mode at that time. Before we made 10 miles from home, I heard the ‘crap’ word so many times that my angst was about to spill over into some version of parental vomit. Those were the days before I knew about the four quadrants of emotional intelligence. So I had little internal awareness to influence my reactions.

I pulled over to the side of the road, turned around to face the two boys, and said, “If I hear the word ‘crap’ one more time during our trip, I will stop right there, let you out, and you can figure out how to get to work.” I confess that my memory is a bit fuzzy on what happened after that. All three of us did arrive to our destination together. So, either they stifled themselves or I gradually moved into a catatonic state of deaf fixation on the highway before me.

Through the ensuing years, I have had a fair bit of ‘shock treatment’ in regards to language. One memorable experience was sitting in an industrial workplace at coffee with a middle aged woman. She (I will call her Marilyn) had chosen a career traditionally dominated by men. Happily showing me pictures of her grandchildren, Marilyn punctuated her narratives with regular use of the F-word. It certainly wasn’t directed at the children, nor at me, but came out pretty much like I would say “Yuk,” “Yeah,” or “Huh.” Just a regular feature of Marilyn’s everyday work vocabulary.

I was pretty much in a state of shock and didn’t have the wherewithal to ask her about it. But I have always wished that I was able to witness Marilyn’s conversations with her children and grandchildren. I have no doubt the F-word stayed at work comfortably stowed away in the locker with her heavy gloves, coveralls and steel-tipped boots. Then, as a natural part of her change of persona before each work shift, Marilyn would reach up (figuratively, of course) to that top shelf, pick up F and a few of his/her friends, and head to the control room. And, before leaving for home, she would tuck them away again in the locker.

You can see why I noticed an advertised webinar recently called Using the F-Word at Work: Understanding Emotional Culture. The webinar starts a half-hour from now. But is the title just a brazen ploy to trap my attention? The description for the session gives no indication of the main F-feature suggested by the title. The presenter is introduced as “a Culture & Leadership Coach who helps leaders and teams illuminate the dark corners and lift up the rugs where emotions have been neglected . . . equipping them with the tools and skills to embrace feelings and understand the profound impact emotions have on their work.” Sounds pretty lofty.

It’s almost time for the session. Will be back soon.

The speaker began with an exercise (via Chat in Zoom). A good pedagogical activity to bring the remote group together. Each of us shared a negative and a positive emotion that we experienced last week at work. Since I don’t go out to work (I am kind of retired), I had to improvise. The exercise generated an extensive list of positive and negative emotions. We then selected one positive that we would like to see more of and one negative that we would like to see less of in our work setting. The presenter’s intention was likely to elicit experiences that stimulate emotive exclamations, some of which might have the letter ‘F’ in them.

Then came a pungent story about rats and cat hair.

I am familiar with the concept of psychological safety. And the anecdote about rats and cat hair was a good illustration. Despite their negative reputation, rats are quite social creatures and love to play. When researchers introduced a few strands of cat hair to their environment, the rats stopped playing and shifted into a cautious and defensive mode of activity. It took a few days before they gradually relaxed and began to play again.

Our speaker linked the analogy to fears and uncertainties (strands of cat hair) that occur in a workplace when a person’s sense of psychological safety is threatened. I have seen this effect in a staff lunch room. Aggressive language (e.g., cutting remarks, swearing) begins to flow against an absent colleague, a supervisor, a boss. Maybe it’s a defence mechanism to assert a form of personal strength and control in the midst of unpleasant circumstances.

I can’t say the session was a disappointment. I didn’t really expect the presenter to use the actual F-word in a virtual session with unknown participants. But I was anticipating some kind of link to the marketing strategy. At one point, she obliquely referred to “F-word” as a potential expression of honest emotional sharing in a context of psychological safety. [Note that she said,”F-word,” not the actual word itself].

Overall, the title was a creative composition to cultivate curiosity (and give me opportunity to be quite alliterative with 4 Cs). And her content regarding psychological safety in the workplace was worth the hour of my time. Although I do have some lingering questions about how ‘F-ing this’ and ‘F-ing that’ at work is connected to everyone feeling better about everything.

I’m almost surprised that my respect for grandmother Marilyn was not affected negatively by her workplace vocabulary. She was staking her claim in a tough work setting. I was confident that she had another vocabulary for use with her grandchildren.

My problem, however, is with people who do not have the ability, the awareness, the sensitivity – I don’t know what to call it – to actively and intentionally decide when it is appropriate ‘to swear or not to swear.’ Why does someone in the midst of a mixed crowd (as in a shopping mall, a grocery store, a restaurant) speak like they are at their industrial workplace? Is it just unthinking carelessness? Is it a form of personal empowerment?

I don’t know. But the easiest way to find out is to gently call them on it. If you are there with a child, a grandchild, or even by yourself, kindly ask if they mind changing their language. If they realize their language is not suitable in that context, an apology or some positive recognition will likely occur. If they look at you (or respond) like you are the problem, you are now in the presence of someone who has not thought about when ‘to swear or not to swear.’

ADDENDUM

Since writing this piece, two additional points have come to mind.

First, I probably have to broaden my own concept of what is swearing. Definitions assumed today are certainly different than a generation ago. I was gently mocked for my disposition on ‘crap’ 30 years ago. Yet in recent years, I have found some enjoyment in adding ‘damn it,’ ‘don’t give a damn,’ ‘what the hell’ to my vocabulary. Sometimes it has shock value in dialogue with my conservative colleagues and, I suspect, even my family. But one line I never cross. If I may use an old-fashioned phrase, I will never ‘use the Lord’s name in vain.’ If I was ever compelled to make a choice, I would certainly choose the F-word before I insulted the God I recognize as existing and the Christ I follow as a desired way of faith-life.

Second, I recognize the powerful influence that entertainment media has made on what is considered ‘normal’ in social language and behaviour. My most recent encounter with this reality was last evening with The Pitt, a television medical drama that has won multiple awards including Outstanding Drama Series at the 2025 Primetime Emmy Awards. The show has seen massive growth in viewers as it enters just its second season. I watched the first few minutes of last evening’s episode. Amidst the bedlam of Emergency Room activity, a man comes in with a cut on his head and demands some attention. Within his first few sentences, the F-word is delivered and then often repeated. And it is all made to look like more or less normal human activity.

Now, at this season of life, I am working to root out judgmental pronouncements from the perceptions and affirmations I make of what goes on around me. So please receive my narrative in this piece as observational and not critical assessment (although some critique has undoubtedly slipped in). In earlier years, I had more answers than questions. I was quite willing to give answers even before questions were asked. My life now is defined more as having a core of fundamental internal assumptions and, beyond that, more curiosity than complacency.

So I really don’t know what to view as ‘normal’ language use today. Does social change drive entertainment media’s use of language? Or is it the other way around? Whatever the case, I believe there is still a need for personal reflection on how you and I want to present ourselves to other people in different contexts. Because, ultimately, Shakespeare’s ‘to be or not to be‘ really does make it clear. Who (I guess I should say ‘whom’) do you and I want to be? Or want not to be?

That is the question. I’lll keep working to figure out the answer for me. Hope you will do the same for you.

Postscript (February 2026)

For the backstory on my comments below, you should first read “Just because I could . . . a thing called ‘Power’.”

In May 2025, a town hall meeting was called in protest to the sudden ban of all boats on the lake. The Park Superintendent who made that fateful decision was brave enough to enter the ‘den of lions’ and suffer the harsh verbal treatment awaiting her. As she was leaving that meeting, where indeed she had been ‘shredded’ by most of the comments, I had opportunity to speak with her. Two things stand out from our five-minute conversation on the street:

1- During the meeting, the Park Superintendent had tried to make a distinction between “I personally made the decision” and “I made a personal decision.” She was hoping to assure the people that she was representing Parks Canada in her leadership role and not simply exercising personal bias. We agreed that the nuanced difference did not appear to resonate with the crowd. They were taking it very personally and giving feedback accordingly.

2- In saying goodby, I shook her hand and asked that she take care of herself. I don’t know why those words came out. It just seemed like a human thing to do given what she had just been through. She said she would try. A short while later we heard that she was on stress leave and was transferred to another National Park.

The ‘boat issue’ pretty much consumed all the coffee talk at the lake that summer. In reflecting on the whole experience of those weeks, I could not decide whose ‘side’ I was on. It is difficult to separate roles, especially those with power, from personhood.

Backstory: As expressed in A Start . . . A Fresh Start . . . and then, A New Fresh Start, I did the piece below during my one day of writing in May 2025. Now, in January 2026, I have reworked it somewhat but still let it speak from the context of that day in May.

“Just because I could.”

The words of then-President Bill Clinton when asked why he engaged in sexual acts with Monica Lewinski in a hallway beside the Oval Office. “Just because I could.” Prior to that time, such behaviour going public would usually cause a full stop to the reputation, and usually the career, of high-level politicians. Society demanded at least the appearance of personal morality in its leaders. ‘Appearance’ is the operant word here. It is now established fact that President John F. Kennedy was prolific in his extramarital sexual liaisons. Just because he could. The powerful resources of his position kept these unsavoury truths ‘under the covers’ so Kennedy’s image stayed largely intact during his lifetime. And suffering a martyr’s death sealed his iconic halo position. President Clinton had significant fallout from his liaison including impeachment by the U. S. Senate. Yet he finished his term with a 70% approval rating and went on to become one of the most loved, charismatic post-Presidents.

Armchair analysts have suggested that the Monica Lewinsky affair was a pivotal moment in American history. It marked the beginning of public acceptance of disconnect between personal morality and core character requirements for public service. With power came privileges. And this reality is not confined just to the higher levels of business, government and politics. “Just because I could” also shows itself in other places.

A few days ago we relocated for the summer to our cabin within a Canadian national park. The invasion of zebra mussels into the lake in recent years has compelled the Park to undertake serious interventions. One major action has been the prohibition of engine-driven watercraft. However, with the battle against the mussels being all but lost, for this summer the policy was to be one-boat one-lake (meaning: if you put your boat into this lake, don’t take it anywhere else). Local businesses and boat owners were primed for a greatly desired new economic boost. That changed just one day before the long weekend in May.

One person in the power structure of Park administration declared a new policy of no engine-driven boats at all. In addition to affecting many boat owners, the sudden, 180-degree policy change had a harsh impact on the local tour boat operator. He had just geared up with all the commitments required for a busy summer of activity. Also deeply personal for the general population is the fact that this tour boat (a repurposed yacht) is a strong visual symbol of the endearing quality and culture of our beautiful Park and lake.

I am not conversant with all the factors that went into this sudden decision. There could be a significant backstory that spoke strongly in that direction. Life is like that at times for leaders in government and public services. Also true for smaller organizations and even families. For better or worse, there is often a need for someone to ‘take a stand’ or ‘take the fall’ for a decision in the face of competing interests. Additional layers of complexity are added when there are perceived hidden agendas or biases involved. In the end, it often becomes quite personal for all affected parties. So I cannot judge the legitimacy, the ethics, or the morality of the policy being reversed. My point of focus here is that, in the end, one person made the decision “just because I could.” They had the authority, the responsibility, and the power.

Now, I am not placing myself on the same level as the White House or a Canadian National Park Superintendent. Yet this present reflection reminds me of the “just because I could” mentality in my own professional and personal life. I have many examples (some to my shame) but will share just one here.

Many years ago, I was asked to join the faculty of a small college. Before I got there, they also asked me to be the Academic Dean. Inadequate consultation with my spouse (actually minimal to non-existent). Personal hubris running freely (wow, I must be something; they want me). I took the additional job and was no longer ‘just’ a faculty member. Very quickly I made all kinds of decisions “just because I could.” Yes, there were compelling factors of institutional survival that required strong leadership for new initiatives. But many of these decisions also had significant impact on workload and morale of faculty members. And I was too naive in the realities of how such top-down behaviour can affect life at the level of human relationships. I was quickly trapped in a ‘me versus them’ tension with the rest of the faculty. Hoped-for social life and collegiality were squashed. Instead, I was compelled to move the organization forward in the face of increasingly unhealthy group and personal dynamics.

There is a thing called ‘power.’ A force that moves in many forms and at all levels of human engagement. A large topic that merits further attention. But not today. It is our first morning in a little cabin at a beautiful lake in a magnificent national park. And the raging community dialogue about ‘the boat issue’ has prompted this little excursion “just because I could.”

TIME. Is there anything more variable in our experience of life? As a child in the family car, heading to see Grandma (we called her Baba), it passed so excruciatingly sloooow. Now, at 76, I simply don’t know where the past 25 years have gone.

It seems like only yesterday that Barbara and I were fully immersed in the busy daily life of both working full-time and the kids finishing high school. Now we watch them go through their own experience of raising a family. I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you – we have three beautiful grandchildren, one is 15 and two are fraternal twins almost 6 years old.

There is an abundance of literature, both philosophical and practical, on the subject of time. In fact, even religion joins the discussion. If you are interested, you can find a biblical reference to time standing still. In the Book of Joshua (10.12-14), it is recorded that both the sun and the moon stood still for one whole day. I’m not qualified to explore all the questions related to that narrative.

My purpose today is to reflect on some implications of the question, “Are we there yet?” It is a small bite compared to the mouthful that is raised in the Joshua record. And, keeping it somewhat manageable for a non-expert like myself, I will focus on the contribution of French philosopher Henri Bergson (1859-1941) as expounded in an article by Matyas Moravec.

Moravec wrote his article in December 2020 when society was reeling from effects of COVID. The common perception was that time was moving very slowly as we inched our way through the pandemic. Moravec used this context to ask the question, “Why does time feel different, fast one year and slow the next?” He references Bergson’s concept of la durée as a source for some explanation.

Here is an overview of Bergson’s approach. Time has two faces, one being ‘objective time’ (as recorded on a clock) and the other being ‘la durée’ which is actual lived time. This is our inner subjective awareness of how time is actually felt and experienced. In the usual flow of daily life, we often do not pay much attention to la durée. Our activities are largely directed by the time indicated on our timekeeping devices. We take notice, however, when the two concepts of time begin to separate and go in different directions.

A few examples. When children are happily playing outside, time kind of stands still. That is, until Mom or Dad calls out from the kitchen window, “You have 5 minutes to get in the house and washed up for supper.” Suddenly, the joyful languish of la durée is replaced by the tyranny of the clock which completely alters the la durée experience. The reverse occurs when those same children are in the family car on the way to Baba’s house. Rather than a 5-minute deadline to terminate their enjoyment outdoors, the children now have a seemingly interminable length of suffering to endure. At the adult level, one example is the difference between how we may experience 4 to 5 pm at the dentist’s office versus 4 to 5 pm at the TGIF (Thank God It’s Friday) social gathering after work. It is the same clock hour but a significantly different la durée.

Moravec ends his article with a thought-provoking statement that works best if I quote all of it: “If we accept Bergson’s more controversial claim that only la durée is ‘real’ and objective time is merely an external construction imposed upon our lives, one might say that the pandemic has given everyone an insight into the fundamental nature of time.”

For children, it is so common to experience the “Are we there yet?” problem. But for adults, I wonder if we find ourselves more often asking the question, “Are we there already?” Where have the past 25 years gone? We got here way too fast.

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For those of you whose interest is piqued for a bit more, here is an anecdote from Moravec’s article:

“In 1891, Bergson married the cousin of the novelist Marcel Proust (1871-1922), whose writing was strongly shaped by Bergson’s durée. Proust’s monumental In Search of Lost Time – the longest novel ever written – illustrates the ability of la durée to contract and expand, regardless of objective time. As we read, the progression of Proust’s lived time feels natural. And yet each volume passes in a different ‘objective’ time: some volumes span years, others just a couple of days, despite the fact that they’re all roughly the same length.”