Sinking Leadership

Dearest Rachel –

This is not a topic that would come up between us very often, but I know we would occasionally discuss the phenomenon when it would happen to us individually (and it usually did happen to us on an individual basis; as I describe it, you’ll understand why). We would be reading a book or article, when we would come upon a certain key word or phrase repeated within a sentence or paragraph. After seeing it too many times within the passage, however, the word or phrase would suddenly appear to “fall apart.” It would lose what meaning it might have had, and appear to us as little more than an agglomeration of random letters.

The sensation would eventually pass, of course, but it was always a weird experience, and one which we would remark upon to each other on those occasions when we dealt with it. I don’t recall if we ever thought to look up whether this phenomenon had a clinical name to it (thereby affirming that this was something that was “common to man,” and not some indication that we, personally, were going around the bend), but I’ve discovered that it’s known as ‘semantic satiation.’ You might recognize that second word as having to do with eating – or rather overeating – and is best expressed by one of ‘Uncle’ Gary’s old cartoons:

That’s literally what the term describes, although the description of the process references the fact that the neurons processing the information on the page or screen simply grow fatigued from dealing with the same word over and over again, and become less responsive to the word or phrase with each repetition, resulting in the temporary loss of meaning to the concept they’re meant to describe.

The beauty of the English language is that we have enough synonyms that we, as writers, can (and are advised to) ‘mix it up’ a little by substituting similar words and phrases throughout our writing in order to avoid this happening to our readers. Whether we’re any good at it remains to be seen; it may also depend upon the breadth of our readers’ vocabulary as well. But still, the fact remains that we have a built-in way to avoid this sort of occurrence.

The problem is, we also are aware that repetition is the easiest way to teach and inform others; the more you repeat a concept, the more thoroughly your audience is likely to absorb whatever it is you’re trying to say. So we, as writers, are pulled in two different directions; the first, to be understood, suggesting that we ought to repeat our various points multiple times over, so that our audience grasps the meaning of what we are trying to say; while at the same time being aware that too much, or too slavish, repetition will induce this sense of semantic satiation, and undo all that effort toward understanding on the part of our readers.

I say all this because I’ve been having a word ‘fall apart’ like this recently, and I do wonder if it will have the chance over the next year or so to reassemble itself in my mind to a point where I’ll be able to recognize the concept again: ‘leadership.’

I’m sure you can guess why; election season (can you really call it a season when it extends longer than a full year as it does?) is upon us, and everyone auditioning for the lead role is busily trying to tout their bona fides in this particular department. What they’ve accomplished in other, lesser roles, and how this would translate to the main political stage. In certain cases, there are those running on their own previous records, promising more of the same wonderful work as they’ve done in the past.

And it’s this latter group in particular that cause the word to crumble like well-aged Rocquefort, were you to try and place it on a sandwich (can you tell I haven’t eaten yet this morning?) Because the records that some of these people are willing to claim as being so fantabulous just… aren’t. Their idea of leadership is so skewed from what I, as a reader and voter, would want that I find myself questioning whether they know the meaning of the word – or if I do. This kind of leadership sounds almost like it’s been ever-so-slightly mispronounced, and it’s really meant to describe the sort of stuff you’re supposed to avoid when crossing a field populated by a herd of cattle with particularly weak digestive tracts.

I know I’ve just recently admitted to being unable to put together a plan for my life – thereby rendering me unattractive to others, apparently – but you’ll recall that, even then, I suggested that those that claim to have a plan (or even several) may very well be bluffing about that, and nowhere does this seem more obvious that when one is observing the political realm. Everyone claims to have the thing that will save the nation – or even the world – when in fact, experience has taught me that none of them do, and for some of them, it would seem that finding real solutions is the last thing they would want, as they seem to feel that it would put them out of work. No, they appear to believe, let’s prolong or exacerbate the problem, so the masses keep coming to us for our leadership, even as it sinks faster than the Titanic.

I know that “this, too, shall pass,” honey – both my current case of semantic satiation, and the would-be leaders that have induced it – but I do rather worry that I might before either of those happen. I know that’s cynical of me to say so, but it would seem that observed reality, such as it exists, is a petri dish for cynicism. I can only hope that a cure is found before I’m terminally infected.

To that end, keep an eye on my, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.