Scott Monty

Aural Intimacy

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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hw0w2kpckhM/Xs6DXqdp-aI/AAAAAAABNGE/Uq5zdOjonDMM7_s1z8imQLCQfqG0rjftwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Jean-Honor%25C3%25A9%2BFragonard%2B-%2BThe%2BLock%252C%2B1777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1378" height="500" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hw0w2kpckhM/Xs6DXqdp-aI/AAAAAAABNGE/Uq5zdOjonDMM7_s1z8imQLCQfqG0rjftwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Jean-Honor%25C3%25A9%2BFragonard%2B-%2BThe%2BLock%252C%2B1777.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bolt_(Fragonard)#/media/File:Jean-Honor%C3%A9_Fragonard_009.jpg" target="_blank">The Lock</a></i> by Jean-Honoré Fragonard, c. 1777 (public domain - Wikipedia)</td></tr>
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<em><strong>"I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any intimacy."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1925</em></div>
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"Daddy, tell me a story."<br />
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It's a refrain repeated in many languages all over the world—a timeless routine that signals the winding down of the bedtime routine. It happens in our house, even after our kids have been old enough to read on their own. <br />
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What's the first story you remember?<br />
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Odds are it's a fairy tale or a nursery rhyme, or perhaps a Dr. Seuss book.<br />
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Whatever personal reminiscence springs to the forefront of your brain ("mileage will vary," as we used to say in the auto business), I'll guarantee you one thing: it's a story you heard. That is, it's a story that someone once told you or read to you.<br />
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And it may not have been relegated to bedtime, either. Perhaps it was around a campfire, over a Sunday dinner, or at a family gathering, where the same yarns are repeated year after year.<br />
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The stories we tell define who we are. We develop a culture based on the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, and our culture is formed via a certain collective memory.<br />
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The Thaayorre of Cape York Peninsula in Queensland, Australia are a historically oral people, passing down their traditions via the spoken language. And they believe intellect and memory reside in the ear.<br />
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So it makes perfect sense that our strongest memories of early stories are from what we <em>heard</em> rather than what we <em>read</em>.<br />
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The ancient poet Homer is believed to have been blind and unable to write even something as simple as his own name. Yet he composed the <em>Iliad</em> and the <em>Odyssey</em>, the foundational books of the Western canon. These two epic poems were first shared orally, suggesting that considerable portions of the 27,803 lines were memorized by rhapsodists who performed them regularly.<br />
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The main liturgical rite of the Catholic mass for centuries was sung in Gregorian chant. Before congregants were able to read widely, the religion assured its survival by sharing the oral tradition that is so intertwined with the image of Benedictine monks. Even today, post-Vatican II,  there are still some vestiges left of those chants.<br />
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<em><strong>"Language is the armory of the human mind and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests." </strong></em></div>
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<em>— Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1817</em></div>
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Beyond singing, though, how powerful the spoken word is. While the printing press gets credit for a revolution of religion, industry, and education, humans have thrived on language to carry our traditions along.<br />
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Historians might bristle at the notion of a historical record sustained solely <em>viva voce</em>, with something as loose and malleable as language, but the inescapable fact is we are an oral and  aural people.<br />
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This is bolstered by the latest trends and supporting technologies. When Steve Jobs debuted the iPod in 2001, he said you could have "1,000 songs in your pocket." This appealed to our love of music and all that is audio. <br />
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Fast forward to present day, when <a href="https://smonty.co/2XDqM5j">Edison Research's Infinite Dial 2020</a> tells us more than one out of three Americans listen to podcasts, 62 percent of us over the age of 12 use some sort of audio assistant, and podcasts reach over 100 million Americans every month.<br />
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Audio news such as <a href="https://smonty.co/2ZL5FR1">Joe Rogan's podcast going exclusive with Spotify for $100 million</a>, and <a href="https://smonty.co/3ergjjQ">Amazon pushing into the local podcast market</a> (where we rely on local news, sports, weather and advertising) are additional signs that audio is booming.<br />
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Whether it's asking Siri a question, telling Alexa to add something to a shopping list, or dictating a voice-to-text reply, we're using our voices to speak to our digital companions, not just each other.<br />
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The oral (and aural) tradition is alive and well.<br />
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<em><strong>"The gift of a common tongue is a priceless inheritance and it may well some day become the foundation of a common citizenship."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— Winston Churchill, 1943</em></div>
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This wide open medium stands before us, easily conquered with microphones and hosting services that are affordable and accessible. It's like a modern-day Gold Rush, with prospectors storming the general stores for supplies and heading into the wilderness to mine a vein.<br />
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Like the California Gold Rush that burst into national consciousness in 1849 and peaked by 1852, we may stand on the edge of a podcasting rush. How long before we become oversaturated with audio content? <br />
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With podcast familiarity at over 70 percent (again, according to Edison Research), it's the perfect opportunity for brands to create content for the medium. But how many brands are doing this well?<br />
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One group of brands that would be ideal candidates for podcast creation: <em><strong>automakers</strong></em>. They've got a captive audience, as their vehicles and their infotainment systems are literally audio systems on wheels. What's stopping them from producing great shows?<br />
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It's been six years since I left Ford, where there never seemed to be an appetite for creating a brand podcast. Which is ironic, since car radios have been around for 90 years, first introduced by Motorola (a portmanteau of "motor" and "Victrola"). Ford even owned Philco, an early radio manufacturer.<br />
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While I was there, the extent of podcast involvement by the company was sponsorship of some major tech podcasts. This was in the long tradition of branded sponsorships like Ford Television Theater, General Electric Theater, and such. <br />
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You would think that we could have turned the corner in 70 years, but it can be difficult for brand managers, who are tasked with marketing and sales of products. Eager to share everything their brand is doing, they typically suffer from <a href="https://smonty.co/2XyLL9g">a certain kind of myopia identified by Pacific Content</a>:<br />
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<em>"[I]f you make a show that is too directly about your brand, your business goals and your business strategy, very few people will listen to it. Why? Because it’s tough to build a loyal audience for an infomercial."</em></blockquote>
One exception is <a href="https://smonty.co/3epRBAB">GE's co-produced effort with Panoply</a> a few years ago. Together, they produced fictional podcasts "The Message" and "LifeAfter," in a nod to its origins in television entertainment, but updated as GE Podcast Theater.<br />
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Why did this approach work? Because it was crafted as a <em>story</em>, not as a brand narrative. <br />
Stories work because they affect us at a deeply personal level. And yes, we can craft words on a printed page to tell a story, but we run the risk of a speed reader or hyper-scroller who breezes past an important point we're trying to make.<br />
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But audio? With audio, we have a chance to arrest their attention. To say the same thing to everyone and to have everyone hear it the same. To form a common bond through the same language.<br />
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What has always struck me is how personal podcasts are. Whether we're listening at our desks, on a walk, while we're gardening, or while we commute, it's a medium in which someone is speaking directly into our ears.<br />
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This is a level of intimacy that isn't afforded by other media.<br />
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Podcasting content speaks directly to us, just as we do to our children when we tell them bedtime stories.<br />
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It's entirely possible that our future oral tradition will include the phrase, "Alexa, tell me a story."<br />
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<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">This originally appeared in the May 27 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. What are you missing? To see this issue in its entirety, with entertaining and thoughtful links, recommendations, and more, <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/aural-intimacy" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">please click here</a></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. </span><br />
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Aural Intimacy

The Lock by Jean-Honoré Fragonard, c. 1777 (public domain - Wikipedia) "I like large parties. They're so intimate. At s...

Monuments to Ourselves

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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DgWfPeTyTJE/XsTfmEpxv6I/AAAAAAABNCY/u09cejt2gEYMYOYFFFHNwW327uJRoJTMACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Jean-Auguste-Dominique%2BIngres%2B-%2BApotheosis%2Bof%2BHomer%2B%2528Homer%2BDeified%2529%252C%2B1827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DgWfPeTyTJE/XsTfmEpxv6I/AAAAAAABNCY/u09cejt2gEYMYOYFFFHNwW327uJRoJTMACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Jean-Auguste-Dominique%2BIngres%2B-%2BApotheosis%2Bof%2BHomer%2B%2528Homer%2BDeified%2529%252C%2B1827.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Apotheosis_of_Homer_(Ingres)#/media/File:Jean_Auguste_Dominique_Ingres,_Apotheosis_of_Homer,_1827.jpg" target="_blank">Apotheosis of Homer</a></i> by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, 1827 (public domain - Wikipedia)</span></td></tr>
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<em><strong>"I would much rather have men ask why I have no monument than why I have one."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— Cato the Elder, c. 184 BC</em></div>
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In the 1986 comedy <em>Back To School</em>, the oldest freshman, played by Rodney Dangerfield sat in English class, confident of his ability to pass the course because of his budding relationship with his professor. <br />
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The professor, Dr. Diane Turner, still expected mastery of the material when she called on him:<br />
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"Mr. Melon," she began. "How would you characterize <em>The Great Gatsby</em>?"</blockquote>
Clearly out of his element and caught unprepared, he replied: <br />
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"The Great Gatsby? He was…uh…great!"</blockquote>
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This scene stays with me not only because I was an impressionable teen when I first saw it (and repeated it to myself not long thereafter when I read <em>The Great Gatsby</em> for the first time), but because it raises a number of questions: What is greatness? What is fame? How do they differ? And how does reputation factor into this?<br />
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<em><strong>"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— William Shakespeare, 1601</em></div>
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Who personifies greatness to you?<br />
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You may have a personal hero—someone close to you whom you admire who has achieved something or influenced you in some intimate way.<br />
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But most of us conjure up images of distant heroes from chapters of the past when we consider greatness. Leaders like Lincoln, Washington, Martin Luther King. Jr. Artisans such as Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raphael. Industrialists like Rockefeller, Edison, Ford.<br />
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If we go back a couple of millennia, we find leaders who were able to achieve greatness, slowly and gradually over time (greatness is not for those who crave instant gratification), and who had the means to leave monuments to themselves. Triumphal arches in Rome to various Caesars; the terracotta army buried with Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China; pyramids in Egypt left as burial chambers for the pharaohs. <br />
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If a leader was respected and revered enough, he might even be deified. Some attempted to deify themselves in the process (in ancient Egypt, the pharaoh was considered part god), while others were treated as such after their passing. Consider the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial as examples approaching this.<br />
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And yet, aren't these temporary? They wear away with the sands of time. Nature takes a toll and topples them, like the Colossus at Rhodes (felled by an earthquake in 226 BC), or thieves raid the tombs of ancient kings.<br />
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Shelley wrote of this notion of fleeting greatness and the arrogance of leaders in his classic poem "Ozymandias" in 1818:<br />
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<em>I met a traveller from an antique land,<br />Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone<br />Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,<br />Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,<br />And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,<br />Tell that its sculptor well those passions read<br />Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,<br />The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;<br />And on the pedestal, these words appear:<br />My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;<br />Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!<br />Nothing beside remains. Round the decay<br />Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare<br />The lone and level sands stretch far away.”</em></blockquote>
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But today? Today we don't have time for greatness. We need everything <em>now</em>.<br />
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<em><strong>"Two centuries ago when a great man appeared, people looked for God's purpose in him; today we look for his press agent."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>—</em><em> Daniel Boorstin, 1961</em></div>
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Boorstin wrote of the "Graphic Revolution" — newspapers, radio, television, and all associated media — that gave us the ability to manufacture fame. Mass media gave us the ability to share the same message, the same voice, and the same face across vast amounts of the population.<br />
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What does that get us, though? Not greatness, but fame.<br />
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He was clear that fame was different from greatness: "We can fabricate fame, we can at will (though usually at considerable expense) make a man or woman well-known; but we cannot make him great.<br />
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We can make a celebrity, but we can never make a hero." <br />
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Another 50 years beyond Boorstin's writing drops us square into the Digital Revolution (same concept, new technology). Now our monuments are likes, clicks, views, and follows as we build monuments to ourselves under the auspices of our "personal brand."<br />
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It's a race to online celebrity (perhaps weblebrity? or cewebrity?) as we take a shot at digital immortality. And yet, the meme mausoleum is littered with viral stars that have since gone supernova and have burned out.<br />
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Being an executive at Ford leading digital communications and social media during its rise to popularity thrust me into the spotlight. It was a byproduct of the work I did, not the goal. But I used my position to share what I learned working within a Fortune 10 company, building my expertise along the way.<br />
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And yet, I saw (and still see) the self-styled "gurus" online who are hustling their hearts out, attempting to convince you that they know how to run a global enterprise because they can push buttons, buy fans, or make bots in their attempt to achieve fame and build their personal brands.<br />
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And who can blame them? Shortcuts to fame would seem to be preferable to actually doing the work. Lewis H. Lapham wrote, "Celebrity is about being, not becoming," and that sums it up the skewed priorities that the world seems to reward.<br />
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<em><strong>"Possessions, outward success, publicity, luxury—to me these have always been contemptible. I believe that a simple and unassuming manner of life is best for everyone, best both for the body and the mind."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— Albert Einstein, 1931</em></div>
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Social media gives us our fair share of Hollywood celebrities, and their legions of fans. But it has also birthed thousands more YouTubers, Instagrammers, TikTokkers and the like, who dazzle us with their creativity nonstop.<br />
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The unending parade of content is an assault on our senses that doesn't allow us to recover. The infinite scroll keeps our thumbs moving while our brains are at rest, passively consuming whatever is presented to them. Lapham observed: "Perceptions of the world furnished by the camera substitute montage for narrative…<a href="https://www.laphamsquarterly.org/celebrity/dancing-stars">the camera doesn't think</a>."  <br />
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It's what allows us to have celebrities who are famous for being famous. Zsa Zsa Gabor was probably the first of this kind who eventually gave way to the likes of the Kardashians and Paris Hilton. [Incidentally, Zsa Zsa was Conrad Hilton's second wife (he was the second of her nine husbands); Paris Hilton was Conrad's great-granddaughter. The circle is complete.]<br />
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<em><strong>"Men are more generally pleased with a widespread than a great reputation."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— Pliny the Younger, c. 110</em></div>
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So we have online personalities (I refuse to call them "influencers") who see the fame, think it's easy to achieve, and chase after it with willful disregard for how they're perceived by those who are paying attention. Or at least by those who are paying attention and can understand the difference between aspiration and raw, greedy ambition.<br />
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In pursuing their unbridled passion for digital dominance (followers, likes, views), they may be sacrificing their reputation along the way. Or perhaps they'll simply further demonstrate who they are — they'll have a reputation, alright.<br />
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With so much content out there and limited space on the platforms, it's harder to get noticed. In an age of content deluge, <a href="https://aeon.co/ideas/say-goodbye-to-the-information-age-its-all-about-reputation-now">it's all about reputation</a>. Rather than pursuing fame, perhaps we should pursue excellence. Or competence. Or helpfulness.<br />
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The best leaders know how to focus on today versus constantly worrying about their legacy. The Stoics knew that <a href="https://dailystoic.com/in-the-end-its-nothing/">in the end, all of the fame, money and trappings means nothing</a>.<br />
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What you have to live with every day, and the legacy you leave to those who care most about you is your integrity, your character, and your reputation.<br />
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Put your efforts into leading with integrity and character, and greatness will follow.<br />
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<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">This originally appeared in the May 20 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. What are you missing? To see this issue in its entirety, with entertaining and thoughtful links, recommendations, and more, <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/monuments-to-ourselves" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">please click here</a></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></span><br />
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Monuments to Ourselves

Apotheosis of Homer by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, 1827 (public domain - Wikipedia) "I would much rather have men ask wh...

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_IkJa04hZBQ/XrusQmFD-fI/AAAAAAABM6Y/hu4AY8emUSIGEROZ-aTPXIJg8BeVMyIXwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Rembrandt%2B-%2BThe%2BConspiracy%2Bof%2BClaudius%2BCivilis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1600" height="410" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_IkJa04hZBQ/XrusQmFD-fI/AAAAAAABM6Y/hu4AY8emUSIGEROZ-aTPXIJg8BeVMyIXwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Rembrandt%2B-%2BThe%2BConspiracy%2Bof%2BClaudius%2BCivilis.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Conspiracy_of_Claudius_Civilis" target="_blank">The Conspiracy of Claudius Civilis</a></i> by Rembrandt, 1661 (public domain - Wikipedia)</td></tr>
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<b><i>"In most cases, men willingly believe what they wish." </i></b></div>
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<i>— Julius Caesar, 52 B.C.</i></div>
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"It's just the wind."<br />
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You've probably thought that to yourself (or even said it out loud) when you were alone at home at night and heard an unexpected noise.<br />
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"It's just the wind," you say, as you to convince yourself that there's nothing to worry about.<br />
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Then, thinking that the wind couldn't make that kind of a sound, you pivot: "Or maybe it's a squirrel in the attic."<br />
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You desperately want to try to outsmart the fear center in your brain. Maybe you succeed. Maybe you don't. It depends on the kind of story you tell yourself.<br />
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Aside from things that go bump in the night, the world can be a scary place.<br />
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Even now, amid advanced technology that connects us to each other's homes around the world, we don't know what the future will look like.<br />
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Imagine what it must have been like thousands of years ago, before calendars were in use, when weather forecasts were unheard of, and when we had no idea where we came from.<br />
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It's human nature to want to simplify the complex, shape the world into a more orderly place, and make sense of things we don't understand.<br />
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So what do we do? We tell ourselves stories to explain away the inexplicable.<br />
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It's been happening since we were first able to communicate. Humans developed myths, traditions, and stories that made sense out of a big and sometimes terrifying world.<br />
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<i><b>"Myth has two main functions. The first is to answer the sort of awkward questions that children ask, such as ‘Who made the world? How will it end? Who was the first man? Where do souls go after death?’…The second function of myth is to justify an existing social system and account for traditional rites and customs."</b> </i></div>
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<i>— Robert Graves, 1955</i></div>
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One of my favorite scenes from Disney's 1940 classic <i>Fantasia</i> is the mythology sequence (quite possibly because of my background as a classics major and a devotee of Beethoven). It's set to Beethoven's Symphony No. 6, "Pastoral," and in it, we experience an idyllic scene of centaurs, winged horses (recall there was only one original Pegasus), and Dionysus, the god of wine, all enjoying themselves.<br />
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Then the sky darkened, the dark clouds parted, revealing an amused Zeus, who called to Hephaestus to supply him with lightning bolts. The creatures scatter in fear, desperately seeking cover. Eventually, Zeus tires of this exercise and the storm recedes.<br />
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It's a creative and illuminating mise-en-scène that literally illustrates how the ancients created stories to explain the unexpected or confusing things in the world around them.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="100%" src="https://giphy.com/embed/YPJoJNbx6SKkCQ7Mtt" style="position: absolute;" width="100%"></iframe></div>
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It shouldn't be much of a surprise then, when surrounded by advanced technology that can be incomprehensible to some and grappling with unprecedented circumstances, that modern-day myths arise in the form of conspiracy theories.<br />
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From the moon landing to chemtrails, Freemasonry to the Illuminati, vaccinations to the fluoride, you can find people who are willing to believe fanciful stories that seemingly explain everything to them.<br />
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Most recently, the coronavirus pandemic has launched people into a tizzy, trying to make sense as to why, in the 21st century, we're dealing with a worldwide plague. <a href="https://smonty.co/35UgTnn" target="_blank">Bill Gates has become a target</a>; the president <a href="https://smonty.co/2yUVA9d" target="_blank">suggested disinfectant</a> to combat COVID-19; and <a href="https://smonty.co/3csmVOH" target="_blank">a video claiming the virus was engineered to drive vaccines</a> has been removed from YouTube and Facebook.<br />
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Incidentally, if anyone tries to convince you with the "Plandemic" video, <a href="https://smonty.co/2WrC39h" target="_blank">here's why it's important to push back and how to do it</a>.<br />
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It's astounding to see the degree to which people will go to contort facts and logical thinking into crazy theories to fit their worldview.<br />
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It may be rooted in a lack of understanding of scientific principles. In her book <i><a href="https://amzn.to/2LlgbGn" target="_blank">Democracy and Truth</a></i>, Sophia Rosenfeld finds that conspiracy theories flourish in societies where there's a gap between the governing and the governed classes. When populism takes hold, the public "tend to reject science and its methods as a source of directives."<br />
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Advances in modern science and technology call even more attention to the disparity between experts and non-experts, leading to the doubting of basic truths.<br />
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This isn't necessarily a new phenomenon, though: in 1623, Galileo wrote about the same phenomenon in <i>The Assayer</i>, noting that his observations of the heavenly bodies were based on math:<br />
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"…what I had set forth was supported and proved by geometrical demonstrations; and such is the strength of men's passion that they failed to notice how the contradiction of geometry is a bald denial of truth."</blockquote>
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What Galileo battled as he tried to convince people that the Earth revolves around the Sun was powerful emotions and biases that stopped them from seeing the truth. When we let our emotions overpower facts, we miss the opportunity to be enlightened.<br />
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When trying to persuade others, this is why it's so important to focus on <i>emotions</i>, to make them <i>feel </i>a certain way, to create the <i>desire </i>to change. Backed up with facts, it's even more powerful.<br />
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This is what the best stories do. They're vessels for information that create an emotional connection.<br />
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Incidentally, I've found a helpful site in working through some of these challenges is <a href="https://smonty.co/2Ll63gR" target="_blank">Your Bias Is</a>. It's worth a bookmark.<br />
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One final anecdote about human nature and how our perceptions can be molded during a pandemic.<br />
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Alessandro Manzoni’s <i>The Betrothed</i>, set in Milan in 1630, <a href="https://www.laphamsquarterly.org/roundtable/simulated-plague?utm_source=timeless_timely&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=myths" target="_blank">dealt with the reactions to an outbreak of the plague</a>. It's remarkable in how it parallels what we see today.<br />
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<b>People became less skeptical as leaders became infected:</b><br />
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"Gradually even the obstinacy with which the populace had denied the existence of a plague abated and disappeared as the disease went on spreading—always by means of contact and association. The disillusionment became more pronounced when the evil, after having been confined for a time to the poorer classes, began to attack persons of greater prominence."</blockquote>
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<b>They chose to ignore the rationale of natural infection, and instead sought other explanations:</b><br />
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"Those who had so long and so doggedly pooh-poohed the idea that disease in embryo lurked nearby and might be transmitted by natural instrumentalities and work havoc, being now unable to dispute the fact of such transmission any longer and unwilling to attribute it to these obvious instrumentalities (which would have been the confession at once of great fallibility and of great blameworthiness), were all the more inclined to discover some other instrumentality at work and to accept the first theory offered."</blockquote>
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<b>Finally settling on conspiracy theories:</b><br />
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"Unfortunately one was furnished ready-made by the commonly received ideas and traditions, then prevalent not only in Italy but throughout Europe, of the arts of black magic and of conspiracies to disseminate plague by means of infectious poisons and sorcery."</blockquote>
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The world is complex. And we have experts who make it their business to try to understand it. We ought to put our trust and faith in them. There's no need to make up stories about things in order to assuage our fears.<br />
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The best anecdote to fear is dealing with reality. Stories can come later.<br />
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<i><b>"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear." </b></i></div>
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<i>― Mark Twain, 1894</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">This originally appeared in the May 13 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. What are you missing? To see this issue in its entirety, with entertaining and thoughtful links, recommendations, and more, <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/the-stories-we-tell-ourselves" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">please click here</a></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. </span><br />
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<br />

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

The Conspiracy of Claudius Civilis by Rembrandt, 1661 (public domain - Wikipedia) "In most cases, men willingly believe what t...

Exposing Our Imperfections

<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AIOA7f3ur_o/XrLjqZmXusI/AAAAAAABM0Q/t6N-iKvlnFU3m6QnZyKCJwIhbgXzAuDZgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/John%2BWilliam%2BWaterhouse%2B-%2BEcho%2Band%2BNarcissus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="913" data-original-width="1600" height="364" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AIOA7f3ur_o/XrLjqZmXusI/AAAAAAABM0Q/t6N-iKvlnFU3m6QnZyKCJwIhbgXzAuDZgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/John%2BWilliam%2BWaterhouse%2B-%2BEcho%2Band%2BNarcissus.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong style="text-align: start;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Echo_and_Narcissus_(Waterhouse_painting)"><i>Echo and Narcissus</i></a></strong><span style="text-align: start;"> by John William Waterhouse, 1903 (Wikipedia - public domain)</span></span></td></tr>
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<em><strong>"Nobody ever discovered ugliness through photographs."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— Susan Sontag, 1973</em></div>
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In the age of the ubiquitous selfie, we fix our gazes on tiny screens filled our own images. But how many of us are reflecting on <em>ourselves</em> rather than solely on our reflections?<br />
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Like water skiers, we skim along the surface, staying afloat for as long as we keep moving swiftly.   With enough practice, we can weave in and out of the wake, launch ourselves off of ramps, and even learn to slalom or barefoot ski.<br />
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But the moment the boat slows and the line slackens, we find ourselves sinking into the water.<br />
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As we flit from site to site and find ourselves mesmerized by the infinite scroll, digital life has given us the ability to avoid confronting the realities of our lives: we fail to address our inadequacies. We ignore our deepest fears.<br />
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This is simply human nature. <br />
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<em><strong>"Life is the art of being well deceived."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— William Hazlitt, 1817</em></div>
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We often don't know we're being deceived though. When the veil is lifted, we're forced to face reality, in all of its ugliness.<br />
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Recently, I had a friend (one who works in a hospital setting) disclose that he was suffering from COVID-like symptoms. He went in for testing and they discovered a previously unknown heart condition that required urgent treatment.<br />
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In an update after one of his medical appointments, he said his doctors told him the coronavirus, while not always presenting with the same symptoms, has been making underlying conditions more prevalent. In other words, if you suffer from some other unrelated health malady, COVID-19 can cause the other afflictions to suddenly flare up.<br />
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This is analogous to the economic impacts we're currently observing here in America: the coronavirus didn't break us; <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/06/underlying-conditions/610261/">it revealed what was already broken</a>.<br />
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In other moments of national crisis, we had opportunities to unite behind a common cause. September 11 was a sudden and acute crisis that drew us closer together for a relatively short span of time; World War II lasted four years and required much greater sacrifice over that period.<br />
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Today, with an invisible enemy on slow roll through our country, it's difficult for people to see the same kind of urgency—especially when their economic future (and present) is at stake. Many citizens are concerned with their physical health, but their economic health concerns are rearing up.<br />
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Coupled with the rise of fierce individualism we've seen in the past decade or so, it has exposed a pathological lack of empathy in those who refuse to wear masks in public places—an act that not only protects them, but more importantly, protects others.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Related: <a href="https://www.scottmonty.com/2020/03/pulling-together-separately.html" target="_blank">Pulling Together —  Separately</a></span></i></b></div>
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Our economy was supposed to be strong, yet on average, <a href="https://www.cnbc.com/2019/03/11/how-much-money-americans-have-in-their-savings-accounts-at-every-age.html">Americans have about $8,800 stashed away in savings</a> (it varies by age). Without jobs, and a rising unemployment rate, we can see how vulnerable we've become.<br />
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And it's not just individuals that are teetering on the brink. If we look across industries—even industries that were seemingly booming previously—there are now major concerns.<br />
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In its latest earnings call, Disney announced <a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-05-05/disney-profit-plunges-by-more-than-half-after-theme-parks-close">it lost $1.4 billion in Q1</a>; 70 percent of the impact was from its theme park division, which has been shuttered because of the pandemic. Parks represented a profit center for the company, allowing it to run thinner margins in other areas. But Disney also has retail stores, cruises, stage shows, and studios, all of which have closed.<br />
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While we're on the subject of the entertainment industry, the future of movie theaters is in question. With so much streaming happening at home, including releases of new movies, who's going to want to endure <a href="https://www.indiewire.com/2020/05/texas-movie-theaters-reopening-1202228918/">a TSA-style check-in at a movie theater</a> versus the comfort of their own couch? With more Americans concerned about finances, a $10 ticket plus a $15 popcorn and soda combo, together with the hassle of getting to the theater and potentially exposing yourself to other Covid-carrying theater-goers, seems like a non-starter.<br />
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Cruise lines, which were at the center of the outbreak, are on the ropes as well. <a href="https://markets.businessinsider.com/news/stocks/norwegian-cruise-line-stock-price-after-going-concern-doubt-investors-2020-5-1029166621">Norwegian Cruise Lines warned</a> that it might not withstand the shutdown (but has since raised $2 billion to tide itself over for a year). That assumes people will want to return to "normal." In an informal Twitter survey, it's not clear that such is the case:<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gojg9KvgRHY/XrLpgFc9EVI/AAAAAAABM0c/V78-_VRvEiwhdMzqwHZFDWF7YBbMKaxwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/cruisin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="889" height="232" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gojg9KvgRHY/XrLpgFc9EVI/AAAAAAABM0c/V78-_VRvEiwhdMzqwHZFDWF7YBbMKaxwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/cruisin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Retail, another sector that struggled with meeting consumer expectations in recent years, is also in for a world of hurt. J. Crew filed for bankruptcy this week; Nieman Marcus and Lord & Taylor are also on the watch list. With so much real estate under them and tens of thousands of smaller retailers poised for a similar fate, <a href="https://www.cnbc.com/2020/04/23/coronavirus-will-speed-up-store-closures-what-landlords-need-to-watch-next.html">mall owners are bracing for the worst</a>.<br />
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The gig economy delivered fast, convenient and relatively inexpensive services to us in the last half decade. Upstarts negatively impacted the taxi, hotel, and restaurant industries. Now along with those industries, the gig companies—unicorns, grown by intense venture capital, insane valuations, and a structure that conveniently absolved them of offering benefits to workers (don't say employees, please)—are on the defensive.<br />
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Airbnb is <a href="https://news.airbnb.com/a-message-from-co-founder-and-ceo-brian-chesky/">cutting 25 percent of its global workforce</a> (in a thoughtful and heartfelt message from CEO Brian Chesky). Uber is <a href="https://www.cnbc.com/2020/05/06/uber-to-lay-off-3700-employees-about-14percent-of-workforce.html">laying off 3,700 employees</a>, or 14 percent of its workforce. Not to mention the <a href="https://gen.medium.com/the-harsh-future-of-american-cities-7263da52fd1f">harsh impact on American cities</a> as a whole.<br />
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Air travel, higher education, healthcare, manufacturing, conferences—I could go on. There's hardly a corner of the economy that isn't affected and exposed for what it is during this crisis.<br />
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<em><strong>"Vanity is the natural weakness of an ambitious man, which exposes him to the secret scorn and derision of those he converses with and ruins the character he is so industrious to advance by it."</strong></em></div>
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<em>— Joseph Addison, 1711</em></div>
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One of the most well-known vanity projects of the 20th century was the building and sailing of the <em>Titanic</em>. The ship's owners famously boasted that the ship was practiclly unsinkble: Captain Edward Smith remarked, "Even God himself could not sink this ship."<br />
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As we know, God had other plans. Reality struck the <em>Titanic</em> in the form of an iceberg at 11:40 pm on April 14, 1912, and within two and a half hours, the ship and some 1,500 souls were gone.<br />
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All it took was a single iceberg to expose the imperfections of the ship: too few lifeboats and bulkheads that didn't extend up far enough to enclose the watertight compartments. As a result, new regulations required ships to carry enough lifeboats for passengers and engineers redesigned the watertight compartments of the <em>Titanic</em>'s sister ship.<br />
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To all who marveled at the Titanic during her building and launch, it seemed as if man triumphed over nature. The Turkish baths, wood paneling, lavish dining rooms and other features of luxury glossed over the dangers that lurked below.<br />
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We like to think all is well based on the outward appearance we project. But without the necessary introspection and hard questions we need to ask ourselves, it's just that: an appearance.<br />
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True leaders can help us aim for substance.<br />
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<em><strong>"A real leader is somebody who can help us overcome the limitations of our own individual laziness and selfishness and weakness and fear and get us to do better, harder things than we can get ourselves to do on our own."</strong> </em></div>
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<em>— David Foster Wallace, 2000</em></div>
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<br /></div>
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">This originally appeared in the May 6 issue of the <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Timeless & Timely</a> newsletter. What are you missing? To see this issue in its entirety, with entertaining and thoughtful links, recommendations, and more, <a href="https://scottmonty.substack.com/exposing-our-imperfections" style="color: #280170; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">please click here</a></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. </span><br />
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Exposing Our Imperfections

Echo and Narcissus by John William Waterhouse, 1903 (Wikipedia - public domain) "Nobody ever discovered ugliness through...

Scott Monty - Strategic Communications & Leadership Advisor

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