The Weight of Words

June 26, 2003 at 1:14 pm — Communicating, Resistance

Suppose you and I are having a conversation, and I say one of the following:

Jeff is a resister.
Jeff is resisting.
Jeff said, “I don’t have time for that.”

Each sentence has a different effect on our conversation. Each carries a different weight.

The first sentence, “Jeff is a resister,” declares what looks like a fact about Jeff. The present tense “is” says that resister-ness is an ongoing quality, perhaps a permanent one.

My choosing this one fact about Jeff, out of all of the things that are true about him, says that for the purposes of this conversation the important thing about Jeff is that he is a resister.

Finally, the word “resister” expresses a great deal about my point of view. By calling him a resister, I am expressing (implicitly) that I want Jeff to do something and that he is not doing it. And I am expressing these things not as truths about my point of view, but as if they were facts about Jeff.

So by saying, “Jeff is a resister,” I am hanging my point of view onto Jeff as if it were a persistent truth about him, and as if it were the important thing to know about him. Those four words carry a lot of weight. They weigh down our conversation.

Let’s look at the second sentence, “Jeff is resisting.” I’m now characterizing not Jeff, but his actions. This allows for Jeff to be a manager, a father, an amateur trombonist, a former volunteer firefighter — a person. And it allows space for us to talk about Jeff’s other qualities. It loads less weight onto Jeff and onto our conversation.

Still, “Jeff is resisting” carries weight. By characterizing Jeff’s actions instead of describing them, my words express my point of view as if it were a fact about Jeff. And they says that, for our conversation, my characterization is the important thing to know about Jeff’s actions.

Now the third sentence. “Jeff said ‘I don’t have time for that.’” Here I am describing what I observed. I am allowing for Jeff’s many other qualities and actions to enter our conversation. The past tense “said” places Jeff’s action clearly in the past, where it occurred. It’s done. Compared to my earlier statements, this one leaves the conversation freer to go in many directions.

And this statement, too, carries weight. As Jerry Weinberg said, “Sometimes the most important thing about what you said is that you said it.” When I say anything, my words bring ideas into the present conversation. Whatever my words say, my uttering them says even more. It says that I believe that the ideas I’ve expressed are relevant and important to our conversation. By singling out one of Jeff’s actions, I’m am saying that this action is relevant and important to our conversation.

Words carry weight. In fact, that’s the point of words: to carry meaning — and meaning is a kind of weight. I’m interested in the weight of words, how heavier words constrain our conversations, and lighter words leave us freer to be present with each other in this moment, to see what is here and now.

Experiment: For one day, notice the weight of your words. In what ways do your words express temporary qualities as if they were permanent? Express past events or conditions as if they were ongoing? Express your characterizations and point of view as truths about people, things, or events? How does this affect your conversations?

Experiment: For one day, notice the weight of other people’s words.

Experiment: For one day, notice the metaphors that you and others use in your conversations. What weight do these metaphors carry? How does this affect your conversations?

Experiment: What does my metaphor of weight bring into our conversation? What does it leave out? How does this affect our conversation?

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5 Comments »

Comment by Paul Leclerc — June 27, 2003 at 4:16 am

I like the fact that you end your conversations with ‘experiments’. I’m wondering if you’ve thought about compiling them (eventually) into a spiritual devotional type book? These books provide a daily scripture verse, a brief essay and follow-on thoughts. Your book might have a similar format.

Just a thought.

PS: A majority of the time, your essays hit way too close to home and scare and frustrate me. Maybe I’m being too resistant Or given today’s topic, maybe I’m just scared of being introspective because it may shed light on my darker sides.

Comment by Dave Hoover — June 27, 2003 at 2:26 pm

This post stirs up in me so many memories of my work in Narrative Therapy back in my former life as a family therapist. We were trained to *very* consciously attend to the choice of words we used, since our work was based on the notion that reality is socially constructed. We were trained to use language that kept possibilities open, that allowed people to reconstruct their lives in ways that were helpful. We would never refer to a person as a “schizophrenic”. This objectifies a person, limiting the possibilities for their future.

I remember how some of my colleagues quickly rejected this line of thinking, and for me, how difficult it was (and still is) to maintain. Thanks for posting this, it reaffirms my suspicion that my experience and training as a family therapsit is relevant on software development teams.

Comment by Dale Emery — June 27, 2003 at 11:28 pm

Hi Paul,

I haven’t thought about what to do with my experiments. I would love to hear what people learn from them, and what works and what doesn’t.

I’m intrigued by your metaphor of “darker sides.” So far, I’ve found that my darker sides are more like bushels under which I’ve hidden my light. (Of course, I never know what’s under that next bushel…)

In any case, I’m glad you’re trusting yourself about what to do with my experiments.

Comment by Dale Emery — June 28, 2003 at 12:02 am

Hi Dave,

There’s a reason this stirs up
Narrative Therapy.

On Wednesday, I was preparing to do some errands, including getting my car washed and detailed. I wanted to take along a book to read. I grabbed Narrative Therapy, which I’d bought a few months earlier after you recommended it so highly on the Bookshelved wiki. For some reason, I put it back and selected another book instead, one that I’d started but hadn’t finished. I guess I imagined that Narrative Therapy would be heavier reading than I wanted at that moment.

As I headed out the door, I realized that I’d forgotten my cell phone. As I went into my office to get it, my computer beeped, telling me I had new mail. It was a notice of your comment about my “Congruence and the Prime Directive” article. I took that as a sign from the library gods, put down the book I’d selected, and picked up Narrative Therapy instead.

I’m glad I did. The car wash took nearly two hours, so I was able to read the first few chapters. Wow!

I’d had the basic idea for this blog entry for a while (see the opening story of my early article about resistance, “Resolving Resistance“), but not the metaphor of “the weight of words.” The metaphor popped into my head (I don’t know why) as I was reading Narrative Therapy, and a blog entry was born.

I’m loving the book. Thank you so much for recommending it!

Comment by Dave Hoover — June 28, 2003 at 11:09 am

Dale,

This is very encouraging. I’ve been recommending Narrative Therapy to software people (Jerry Weinberg, Alistair Cockburn, Bookshelved) since I read Weinberg’s Psychology. I’ve also been recommended some Agile literature to some Narrative people (Gene Combs). You’re the first person to respond.

When I was introduced to Agile Software Development last year, I was more convinced than ever that Narrative had something to contribute to software development, specifically to Agile thinking: I felt a strong undercurrent of philosophical overlap. Since then I have been researching like mad trying to pin down this overlap. It has been a great ride.

I look forward to hearing more about your take on Narrative Therapy.

Conversations with Dale