Last Minute Victory

 

Contranyms are words that have two contrary meanings (for example, “left”, could mean either “departed” or “remaining”). Such words can lead to minor conflicts from time to time, especially between people like me who are both immature and persnickety about language.

 

Case in point, here is a summary of a passive-aggressive kerfuffle, in which I played a part, during a recent visit to the supermarket.

 

I was looking to buy some olives with no pits in them. Some of the jars on the shelf were labeled as “pitted olives”, and I found this confusing because “pitted” is a contranym. It could mean “has pits”, or it could mean “pits have been removed”.

 

I inquired with a helpful worker-lady in the aisle, and she explained in a condescending tone that pitted means “pits removed”. She dismissed my perspective that it could be interpreted either way, and she did not seem to appreciate my pedantic soliloquy on contranyms.

 

When I finished shopping and approached the checkout, this same woman was now running the cash register and I sensed a palpable undercurrent of "not thrilled to see one another". As she scanned my eggs, we had the following exchange:

 

Her: Did you check these?

Me: No.

Her: You didn’t check them?

Me: I did not.

 

She then flipped open the package, revealed a cracked egg, and shot me a look of triumphant told-you-so.

 

Her: Why don’t you check your eggs?

Me (with conciliatory smile): I’m a bad-ass; I like to live on the edge.

Her (not reconciling): Blank stare

 

Then we waited in awkward silence for an assistant to bring new eggs to the front. As she packed the replacement eggs into my bag, we had one final exchange:

 

Her: You should check your eggs next time.

Me: Pitted could also mean “has pits”.

Two Hammers...

My grandfather built houses for a living, including many in the town where I grew up. Late in his life, he began giving away some of his tools that he knew he would no longer use.  I fondly recall the day when he gave me his well-worn hammer. It was old, the head was chipped, and though it looked worthless, I knew it represented a lifetime of diligent work.

My father was also a builder, although that was not his primary occupation. I only know of one house that he built; it is the one where I lived for my entire childhood and where my mother still lives. 

Earlier this year, after my father passed away, I found myself in the basement of his home, surveying his tool bench and the many artifacts of the simple life he had lead. Hanging neatly within a traced outline, I found his seasoned hammer, a near replica of the one his father had wielded.  

Both bore the signs of strenuous wear, and both evoked the values of discipline and integrity with which their owners had swung them. I see them as symbols of honest and productive labor; I cherish them as fitting tributes to two of the men who helped shape my character. 

Fly Safe!

You all may recognize the line “If you see something, say something” as the tagline from the advertising campaign run by the Transportation Security Administration (TSA). It is ubiquitous on airport posters and billboards and is supported by near constant announcements over the crystal clear airport PA systems. Its intent is to enlist the masses to identify anything that looks out of place or suspicious.

 

Personally, I like the idea of reminding everyone to be vigilant. I appreciate and support this effort to keep airports safe.

 

So yesterday, I had a fairly long layover in Chicago and I sought out a quiet space where I could avoid the crowds and read while I waited. I found an inactive gate with only two or three people sitting among 50 or 60 empty seats. There was also a black backpack tucked under one of the empty seats and I fully expected some panicked passenger to come rushing back for it at any second.

 

After a half hour or so, a few agents showed up at the gate to prepare for an upcoming flight and the backpack was still unclaimed. Being fully sensitized by the constant advertisements, I decided to approach the agents to make them aware of the situation. I didn’t expect them to see it as a potential threat but, at a minimum, I thought they would secure the bag and try to find the owner. But they just laughed it off and dismissed me.

 

Some time later, a policeman with a bullet-proof vest, a gun in his holster, and handcuffs hanging from his belt arrived on the scene. I noticed another passenger spoke to him and pointed out the backpack. I heard the policeman laugh and say “they forget luggage and phones and even babies sometimes…ha ha ha”. Then he wandered away, ostensibly in search of donuts.

 

I didn’t think the backpack posed a real threat, but I surely didn’t expect total apathy from the airport officials. Especially since, an hour earlier, they made a big deal about throwing away my toothpaste when I passed through security.

Legacy Planning...

Darwin’s theory of evolution, Newton’s laws of motion, Planck’s constant; some guys get lauded in every high school science class, across the world, every year. Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, Avogadro’s number, Einstein’s theory of relativity; the list of branded scientific axioms goes on and on.

 

These eponymous nuggets of human insight are systematically passed along by the educational system to every new generation. It’s a brilliant form of legacy perpetration.

 

Archemedes’ Principle, Pythagorean’s theorem, Occam’s razor (a razor?)… they give these out like candy. I am wondering, "how hard could it be to get one of my own?"

 

Now, I don’t want to do any hard work or anything. I’m not about to invent the static-electric motor (shout out to John Galt) or map the human connectome. I figure if I toss a few ideas into cyberspace (via this blog post) and you imaginary readers reference my concepts in your conversations and social media posts, the world just might one day associate an important idea with my name. #BulletProofLegacy 

 

Here are options to get the ball rolling:

 

The Fortier Principle of Accidental Genius
Given enough time and vague ambition, a person will eventually say something that sounds profound — entirely by accident. This is how TED Talks happen 

 

Dennis’ Postulate of Selective Memory
People remember things in whatever way makes them feel smarter, kinder, or funnier. The rest is lost to the void. History books work the same way.

 

The Fortier Phenomenon
Any idea, no matter how impractical or absurd, can gain credibility if you present it with a confident tone and a bulleted list. I bet you’re nodding right now.

 

Fortier's Cognitive Load Paradox

The more tabs you have open in your browser, the less you remember why you opened any of them, but the more afraid you are to close them in case they are important. It’s a paradox.

 

Den's Feedback Loop

When your smart devices recommend things based on your past choices, which reinforces future choices until your entire digital life is just ads for golf lessons and reels of random people who trip, slip, or bump their heads.

 

Fortier's Mirror Effect

The tendency to believe information more readily when it confirms your own mildly flattering self-perception. “It says people with messy desks are geniuses. Must be true." Fortier’s Mirror Effect.

 

The rest is up to you all. Just go ahead and use these concepts liberally; one or another is bound to catch on. 

 

Immortality, here I come!

 

Biggest News story of 21st Century

When the twin towers of the World Trade Center fell in 2001, I couldn't imagine any plausible news story that could have had more news coverage around the world. Perhaps my view was a bit USA-centric, for surely there were corners of the globe dealing with more important matters carrying more consequential local impact.

Then, in 2019, along came the Corona virus. There was no geographical escape from this news story; it was all Covid-19, all day long, for months on end, as the world grappled with a complex debate about how big a threat was actually at hand.

In comparison to today, those were cute little news stories. Today we know what serious, comprehensive coverage looks like. For a story to simultaneously command all channels of media and dominate all water-cooler dialogue, it must have important consequences that resonate throughout all societies. You know, something like this:

Kind of shocking to me how much play this story has gotten. I don't know about you all, but I am not taking my mistress to any Cold Play concerts...
 

Moving Walkways

 

 

One of mankind’s great innovations for accelerating the movement of pedestrian masses across long spaces is the moving walkway. They are strategically located in airports and other large buildings where people need to walk long distances under time pressure.  

 

These magical belts move slowly enough to allow travelers to step safely on and off, but quickly enough to get you to gate C36 before your flight leaves for Cleveland. Moving walkways are great. I love moving walkways.  

 

Of course, somewhere along mankind’s slow descent into a sloth-like existence, a false notion about moving walkways has taken hold. That false notion is that the purpose of a moving walkway is to replace walking. Somehow, a portion of the public has come to perceive them as moving “ride-ways”, with no walking involved. 

 

 Hey, no big deal. If you prefer to stand still, then stand still. Be my guest. Just don’t do it on the walkway where you impede the progress of grumpy old men trying to make a connection.

Privacy Shmivacy...

Privacy is great if you want it, but can be pretty inconvenient when you don't. Seems like we should be able to "opt out" of privacy at our own discretion.

For example, if you fill out a detailed medical history listing every condition in your family, from maternal and fraternal grandparents on down, including every allergy, surgery, and medication you've ever had, then you have compiled a very important and useful compendium of information that could help all of your doctors deliver optimal care. But if privacy policies dictate that the only person who can see your information is the one who requested it, then you may have just wasted a lot of time. Especially if you completed the exercise for an ophthalmologist during a routine exam. 

From a technology standpoint, such information is very sharable in electronic form. However, from a legal standpoint, healthcare institutions are required to "protect their patients' information" in accordance with state and federal regulations. The state regulations in California are extreme, by the way. 

Seems a little odd to me that individuals have no say in whether or not they want privacy. It has become a mandate, at all times, at the highest levels, even when it is neither important nor convenient to maintain. 

Phone Eats First

 

I know I am in the minority here and that most of you imaginary readers will hate this opinion. Anyway, here goes...

Food is sustenance. We need it to live. It's okay to dine on food that is cold, stale, or tasteless. Eating an unsatisfying meal won't kill you. In fact, it will keep you alive. Literally.

When eating out, there is really no need to consider and rank order every single item on the menu before ordering; you may rank them if you wish, but it is not required. Every now and then, perhaps you could just read down until you see one you like and get on with it. 

And no, unless we are married to one another, you may not sample my dish to see if you prefer it.

Also, this is important: you can eat food even if you don't take its picture first. I read that 1.3 billion photos of food are posted on Instagram every single day. I might have guessed higher. 

Look... I am happy that you enjoy a fine culinary experience. I also like a tasty meal. But I think requiring a transcendent experience three times a day is a burden that many people impose upon themselves unnecessarily. Set yourself free... it's okay to simply order the first thing on the menu, eat it, and go home. 

There... I said it; let the hate mail flow...

Arresting Art

 

It's the intent of the artist to stir the viewer's emotions. Of course, not all viewers are created equal and some of us are harder to stir than others. I have visited a great many museums around the world, and I find art interesting but I usually do not connect to it on any deep or emotional level. In fact, some of the world’s most famous art, pieces that are renowned for their ability to evoke a reaction and inspire awe, were only moderately engaging to me when I viewed them. 

 

The Mona Lisa? Very small and kind of dark, not sure if I really care if that is a smile or a sneer on her lips. The Last Supper, the Sistine Chapel…? Both nice I guess, but all of the religious symbolism is lost on me. The David, the Thinker...? Each impressive in detail and form, but neither emotionally captivating. 

 

Anyway, I was recently hurrying to a meeting in Los Angeles and I took a shortcut behind the Laker’s arena when…BLAM! I was literally and figuratively stopped in my tracks by the most captivating piece of art I have ever viewed. It was/is an eerily powerful piece. 

 

It is a bronze sculpture honoring Kobe Bryant and his daughter Gianna, who perished together in a helicopter crash along with several others. The two are depicted in street clothes, sitting on folding chairs (presumably court side at a basketball game), wrapped in angel wings. They are leaning into each other with the casual and loving embrace that any father and daughter would recognize. She is relaxed and secure, laughing with her head on his shoulder. He is quietly alive, embracing his role as protector and provider as he kisses her head.   

 

The sculpture is tucked in a quiet spot in the shadow of the arena, surrounded by a bed of flowers. Its poignancy cannot be ignored.  I walked past it four times last week and, based on my observations, it is a source of riveting interest for every person who encounters it.

Oh, Death! - A Poem about Life

 

It's the end of the calendar year. If you are feeling reflective, be it wistfully or gratefully, you might be in the perfect state of mind to connect with this poem.  I hope all my imaginary readers lived their lives well in 2024 and continue to do so in 2025.  

Oh, Death! 

Death asked me to join him for dinner 

so I slipped into my favorite black dress 

that I had been saving for a special occasion 

and let him walk me to our candlelit tryst. 

 

He ordered a ribeye, extra rare 

I ordered two desserts and red wine 

and then I sipped and wondered why he looked so familiar 

and smelled like earth and memory. 

 

He felt like a place both faraway 

and deep within my body 

A place that whispers to me 

on the crisp autumn breeze 

along the liminal edges of dusk and dawn 

somewhere between dancing and stillness. 

 

He looked at me 

with the endless night sky in his eyes 

and asked 

‘Did you live your life, my love?’ 

 

As I swirled my wine in its glass 

I wondered If I understood the thread I wove 

into the greater fabric 

If I loved in a way that was deep and freeing 

If I let pain and grief carve me into something more grateful 

If I made enough space to be in awe that flowers exist 

and take the time to watch the honeybees drink their sweet nectar. 

 

I wondered what the riddles of regret 

and longing had taught me 

and if I realized just how beautiful and insignificant 

and monstrous and small we are 

for the brief moment that we are here 

before we all melt back down into ancestors of the land. 

 

Death watched me lick buttercream from my fingers 

As he leaned in close and said 

‘My darling, it’s time.’ 

 

So I slipped my hand into his as he slowly walked me home. 

I took a deep breath as he leaned in close 

for the long kiss goodnight 

and I felt a soft laugh leave my lips as his mouth met mine 

because I never could resist a man 

with the lust for my soul in his eyes 

and a kiss that makes my heart stop. 

 

Author's note: A playful love poem to Death, because I want to remember to relate to it as a part of life, and in ways that exist outside of violence and brutality. - Gina Puorro

The "Debate" Debate

Well, it's an election year. This means we citizens get frequent calls from pollsters, platform fliers stuffed into our mailboxes, constant donation requests, and of course, televised debates. Or do we? 

I don't think we actually get debates... it's just the wrong term for what happens when candidates face off to discuss policy.

Perhaps my definition is too narrow, but I always thought a "debate" was when two sides, each with opposing views on a particular topic, would share and compare arguments advocating for their respective positions. I thought a debate was a structured affair with more or less equal time to make uninterrupted points and to offer salient rebuttals. I also thought a basic tenet of debate was that you had to support your perspective with generally well-vetted facts.

Anyone who more or less agrees with this definition of a debate would likely conclude that we don't really have Presidential debates. We have Presidential "squabbles", characterized by personal attacks and petty innuendo. Each side cherry picks facts and shares them out of context, each side usually exaggerates (or even lies) when convenient, and each side expends as much energy denigrating the other's character as they do critiquing their arguments. 

What is really sad is that this is the formula that seems most effective in swaying voter opinion. Many of us essentially vote for the squabbler most capable of witty comebacks and contemporaneous slander. These are probably not the best criteria for identifying competent leadership.

My preference would be for the voters to identify the issues that are most important to them in any given election, and then see a series of short debates that focus on one issue each time. For example, this year we might have had short debate on economic policy, followed by a short debate on border control, followed by other short debates on the climate or guns or abortion. 

Such single topic debates would elucidate where the candidates agree and where they differ. Importantly, with only one topic to cover, the debaters would have the time to "explain" their plans rather than just "refer" to them. They could also cite the sources of their information and fact checkers on each side could participate in the rebuttals using referenced sources. 

This would yield useful information to help voters determine which candidate's policies are most aligned with their personal priorities. Seems like a better plan than circulating memes on social media...

Appreciation for Leap Day!

I love leap Day. 

It's a day that is "special" for scientific reasons as opposed to other days that have been deemed special for historical reasons (I'm fine with those), religious reasons (not my thing), or commercial reasons (worst of all). Importantly, as far as I know, the main stream public has not yet widely adopted any particular Leap Day rituals; no one expects me to engage in any pre-determined behavior on this day. 

This morning, I was reflecting on how small we are; one recently evolved species, on one little planet, revolving around a sun that seems old to us but is a relative newcomer to the galaxy. At the same time, I was struck but how great we are in that we have somehow figured out that our planet is orbiting around the sun, and that we spin on our axis some 365.24 times for every trip around the sun. It's almost unfathomable to me that we know these things.

As depicted in the graphic above, the earth completes 365 spins (days) in fractionally less time than it takes us to complete a full orbit (year) around the sun. We all know this is why we need to add a "leap day" every 4 years to approximately keep our calendar system on track. But this is only an approximation. 

We also skip leap year about once every 100 years to fine tune the adjustment. Sadly, this will never happen in my lifetime; the last "skip" was in the year 1900, and the next will be in the year 2100. I am OK with that though, I suspect the whole thing will be infused with commercially-driven rituals by then anyway.

5-Day Run

Here is a brief description of a consecutive 5-day run of events that likely mean very little to anyone other than me.  That's the beauty of imaginary readers, I need never worry if my writing means anything to anyone else.

Feb 10 - The start of the Chinese New Year: Not a cause for major celebration among non-Asian descendants in the US, but kind of a big deal in Asia. I came to appreciate the Chinese calendar when I lived in Hong Kong, especially the Year of the Dragon. I recall being surprised at how being "a dragon" afforded me a degree of admiration that I did nothing to deserve other than being born in a particular year.

Feb 11 - The Super Bowl: Kind of a special day in America, especially for football fans but not only for football fans. I found myself home alone with a bowl of chips, a tub of guacamole, and a couple of cold beers. It was a good game and a great start to the Year of the Dragon!

Feb 12 - Lincoln/Darwin birthdays: Probably my two favorite historical figures, born on exactly the same day in history, separated only by a couple of hours and a few thousand miles.  Lincoln was a political mastermind at one of the most contentious times in US history, and laudably favored the people over any self-interest. Darwin was brilliant scientist who bravely championed empirical evidence over  the religious orthodoxy of the time. I always think of them both on 2/12.

Feb 13 - My 25th Wedding Anniversary: A milestone worth noting. We got lots of congratulatory messages, we went out to dinner, exchanged gifts, and saw a show. We discussed taking a trip but knew we would be pretty worn out from celebrating Lincoln and Darwin, so that's on hold for the time being.

Feb 14 - Saint Valentines Day: Everyone knows this one... no editorial necessary. 

Not sure if/when another prolonged streak of special days will hit, but I'll be sure to blog about it should one occur.

Year of the Dragon

 

 

Not sure if any of my imaginary readers pay attention to such things but today begins the Chinese New Year - welcome to the "Year of the Dragon". My year.

Here is some interesting perspective about we dragons (these indisputable facts may or may not have been conjured up by Chat GPT):

 

People born in the Year of the Dragon are believed to inherit characteristics such as strength, intelligence, and good fortune. The Year of the Dragon is often associated with power, vitality, and success, and it is considered an auspicious time for major life events such as marriage or starting a new business. Additionally, in Chinese culture, the Dragon symbolizes imperial power and is often seen as a guardian and protector. As a result, the Year of the Dragon holds cultural and symbolic importance, influencing various aspects of life including celebrations, traditions, and personal beliefs.

 

Not sure what the year has in store but it seems like maybe I should move to China, start a new business, and throw a big party... 

Who Would Want to Live in a Small Town?

 

I am aware of the drawbacks in small towns. Behavioral researchers will tell you that, across a small population, very few people are going to “make it big” and not many highly accomplished people will emerge as “aspirational examples” for others to follow. It's just math.

This reality can temper the dreams and ambitions of children growing up in small towns because, after all, aiming high and achieving greatly is less likely for those who have no examples to follow. Striving toward what you have seen around you is kind of the norm and aiming low can become a self-perpetrating cycle. 

Also, small towns can feel stifling. Rampant familiarity and a sense that everyone knows each other's business can really make one feel boxed in with no room to experiment or grow. Who would want to live like that? 

Then of course, there is this sort of thing: 

I recently traveled across the country and visited the small town where I grew up. Imaginary readers should note that it has been more than 30 years since I lived within a thousand miles of my boyhood home. One day during my brief visit, I ventured out to buy groceries in the middle of a snowstorm. Upon arriving at the store, I realized that I was not carrying my wallet and had no means of paying my bill. I didn’t want to drive back and forth unnecessarily through the snow and, as I pondered my dilemma, I spied a classmate from several decades ago. I approached her for help and, in true small-town fashion, she was handing me money before I could even finish explaining my predicament. I assured her that my brother would stop by to repay her in the days to come, but she waved off that suggestion as some sort of insult. 

Stuff like that happens a lot in small towns. It's a way of life that you can't get anywhere else. I think it's probably okay to forego worldly ambition in the name of simplicity and contentment, but I fear that all too often, the sparkle of the big city blinds many people from the humble glow of the small town. 

24 Years

At some point during my early years of fatherhood, I considered the 6-year gap between the birth of my oldest and the birth of my youngest child. I calculated that I would have 24 years of parenthood before they were all adults which seemed like a luxurious eternity, practically endless in its expanse. Definitely enough time to perfect the art of raising children.

I wrote about this before, at the ten year mark with my "A Decade of Parenthood" post. At that point, I admitted to not knowing much about parenting, but I still thought I would learn it all eventually. It also seemed to me that I had all the time in the world to do so. Wrong and wrong.

By the time any of my imaginary readers see this post, my youngest will be 18 years old; my 24 years will have completely elapsed. Along the way, I came to realize that there is no right way to parent; it's clearly an ongoing exercise of "make-it-up as you go". But I surely underestimated how quickly it would pass. The whole ordeal is like a runaway train that picks up speed every year... you can't slow it down and you can't catch up to climb back on. It just barrels down the track toward an uncertain future that arrives too soon. 

I guess you're never really finished parenting, at least not until your offspring begin providing more care to you than you do to them. In that regard, I'll keep my job for much more than 24 years. But it is already clear to me that parenting children and parenting adults are two different experiences that bring different flavors of satisfaction. For sure both are great, and both are fulfilling, but they are not the same. 

Christmas Be Gone? Not so fast...

Photo Credit: Terri Hartley

At some point in the last couple of decades, some of you imaginary readers may have heard me muttering about how I hate Christmas. Nothing agains Christ or Christians, I just don't enjoy the extreme commercialization and ever-expanding, stress-inducing rituals that so many people get mindlessly sucked into "enjoying". 

You may have even heard my proclamation that, should I become ruler of the world, I would cancel all holidays. If that makes me seem like a curmudgeon then...well... get off my lawn!

This year, I learned about an exciting new product: "Christmas be gone" in a spray can. I immediately scoured the internet for purchase options while dreaming about the satisfaction of dousing carolers and ugly sweater wearers. Turns out the product doesn't really exist... and maybe that's okay.

The Fortiers took a subdued approach to XMAS this year attending one small party during the week before, a family movie on Christmas eve, sensible gift giving and the exchange of thoughtful, hand-made cards, and a close family of three joining us for Christmas dinner. It was really nice. I didn't hate any of it.

Now don't get me wrong, we 're not talking a grinch-like transformation or anything like that... and I still probably hate the other holidays, but Christmas 2023 was a really good one capping off a challenging year. 

I'll try to keep this momentum leading up to New Year's Eve... might even stay up until midnight!

No Stopping Me Now

Well, this is bad news for my enemies… 

See that photo? That little, red, twisty thing is what Italian scientists call a “corno”; it means “horn” in English. This one came from Naples and, according to well-substantiated scientific fact, it will likely change my life. 

The "science", which is sometimes called "conjecture" by the haters, has been passed along from Italian grandma to Italian grandma for generations, and has proven the following fact: the corno attracts good fortune and repels curses if it is (1) made by hand, (2) painted red, and (3) given as a gift. 

Check, check, check; mine meets all 3 criteria. 

So now that I have received this gift, how do I expect my life to change? 

Well, of course, unlikely events of good fortune will find me on a regular basis. You can follow me on social media to keep track of my forthcoming holes in one, straight flushes, and appearances on Jumbotrons at major sporting events. This is likely to be so common that I may need to register the handle @JumbotronGuy to launch my career as an influencer. 

But more importantly, if any of you imaginary readers have ever put a curse on me, it will no longer be effective. The curse-cancelling powers of the corno are a well-established fact that drives the entire superstition industry in Naples. 

No stopping me now... your move enemies!

The Mystery Hour

One moment you are naked on a table in a strange room; unfamiliar faces surround you. A moment later you are at home, all dressed. You don't know how you got there.

There is a large gap in your memory. A full hour has elapsed and you have no recall of the last 60 minutes. It's a mystery!

You check social media for scandalizing posts or photos... no clues... mild relief. 

You are too drowsy to investigate further. You shuffle to bed for a 3-hour nap.

You wake up hungrier than you've ever been (except for that time in China when you missed your flight twice and had no currency). As you ravage the pantry, it all comes back to you. 

You spent yesterday in the bathroom, didn't eat for 24 hours, and had a colonoscopy today.

You wonder if you hitch-hiked home with no pants...

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion

DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) is an approach that focuses on creating situations that value and include people from diverse backgrounds, treating those people fairly, and providing them with equal opportunities. DEI initiatives are everywhere, but I have a couple problems with this all-encompassing movement, one of which is merely semantic, the other is more substantial. 

Now, I admit,  I may get hung up on semantics a little more often than I should. This has been a life-long trait that annoyed my siblings when we were kids. They even gave me a pejorative childhood nickname related to my precise interpretations of their casual expressions. 

In terms of semantics, it bothers me that there can be so much overlap in the meaning of these three words. In fact, if we cancelled efforts on Diversity and Equity, but did a good job on Inclusion, I think almost everything these programs aim to achieve would work out fine. 

Think about it, if work places, and communities, and organizations were focused on inclusion for all their members, then Equity would happen naturally. No one would be excluded from equal opportunities, equal pay, and equal treatment; they would be “included” on all fronts. This principle of inclusion would of course be extended to diverse members of the group which would minimize the need to specifically focus on diversity. Maybe the whole initiative could just be call "Inclusion".

On the other hand, focusing only on inclusion does seem to stop short of actively pursuing a diverse membership in certain instances when diversity should be sought. I admit that would be a weakness of an "inclusion-only" approach, but that brings me to the more concrete issue I have with DEI. Specifically, diversity is not always good. 

There. I said it. Probably getting cancelled as you read this...

Don't get me wrong. I know that diverse groups can be more creative in developing solutions to complex problems, and can also be more sensitive to how well policies will generalize across a diverse population. In these instances, diversity is clearly good. I agree.

But research also shows that groups focused on executing plans, once the creative solutions have been developed, are often more productive and efficient when they are a tightly knit, homogenous team. In those instances, forcing a diverse membership to function as a single unit can be counter-productive.

Overall, I think DEI initiatives should not be automatic nor universal, but rather, they should be selectively adopted where clearly needed and beneficial. I am not suggesting a major cutback, but a little more thought about how and where to emphasize DEI would be a step in the right direction.

And maybe we need a new acronym, derived from words whose meanings don’t overlap.