
In
the virtual world Second Life, there are people who are there to play
being someone they're not, and other people who are trying to be
authentic. At one extreme there are people who come in and act as a
member of the opposite sex, or as a machine or animal. There are those
who come specifically to play faerie and S&M roles, living out
fantasies behind the mask of their avatar. There are those who act
"realistically" but assume airs or false bravado, who essentially lie
about who they are and see how long they can fool others with their
charade. Then there are the many who act, and speak, in chat and voice,
just like who they are in real life, except better looking. And at the
other extreme are those who alter their avatars to look as much like
themselves as possible (and sometimes even caricatures of themselves)
and insist that everything be completely "realistic".
These
groups tend to self-select others who share their passion for fantasy
or realism. The role-players shrug off accusations of inauthenticity
from realists as anal, puritan and self-important, insisting that
Second Life is just a game -- harmless fun. The realists portray the
role-players as autistics, liars, time-wasters who are preoccupied with
esoterica and too irresponsible to use virtual worlds for much needed,
authentic conversation and problem-solving.
I have a foot in
both camps. I see Second Life as a remarkable imaginative tool: You can
create worlds that don't (or even couldn't) exist in reality. You could
(theoretically anyway) film a group's spontaneous experiences in Second
Life and edit it into a movie that would be unlike anything you could
do in real life. For those who, because of difficult personal
circumstances or disabilities, are restricted in their ability to seek
or have deep, loving, personal relationships, Second Life is exactly
what its name implies, a second chance to live a healthy, normal life.
On
the other hand, it can be a place of escapism, aggression and
addiction. The degree to which some people obtain gratification from
dominating and humiliating another person, and to which others are
willing to subjugate themselves just to be "loved", is very troubling.
Many of the places in Second Life are precise and banal imitations of
real life, except with vastly more conspicuous consumption and private
ownership. The poor play at being rich, with massive private mansions
and torture chambers filled with expensive playthings (you need pay
nothing to have fun in Second Life, but some people spend enormous sums
of real money buying land, clothing and toys for their avatars). In a
world that needs no hierarchy, there is a lot of it. In a world where
"physical" violence is very difficult to perpetrate, there is a
depressing amount of psychological violence.
In today's complex world we all have (for perfectly practical reasons) multiple identities, and I've written before about the
challenges of moving between identities
(and the media that tend to keep them separate) as relationships evolve
and the communities we are each a part of bump together and overlap. My
identities as business executive, as family member, as friend, as
colleague, as writer, as speaker, as student are each different. They
are all authentic, but they emphasize and de-emphasize (or even hide)
different aspects of my history and personality, of who I really am.
In addition to identities we also have multiple personas. These are public roles that we assume or display, that we play.
Many of these roles are assigned tacitly or explicitly, through a job
title, a screenplay, a team roles list, duty roster etc. People who are
insecure or unsure who they are will muddle their personas and
identities: They will act, for example, how they think a father is supposed
to act, in the presence of his children, rather than authentically. In
some cases, when they're really messed up, this can actually be a good
thing, but for the most part it's dangerous and confusing to others.
It's hard to trust someone when you know (and people know when what they are seeing is a persona and not an identity) that it's only an act, a role-play.
Some
personas are authentic, while others are utterly and purposefully
false. Some of them are protective colouring that is designed to make
it easier to survive in a crowded, judgemental and often intolerant
world. Sometimes the gunk of our personas sticks to us so closely that,
like some theatre makeup, it is very difficult to take off afterwards.
After enough time and practice playing a role we may not even realize
that many aspects of our persona are not authentic, not really
ourselves at all. We 'become' our role, our job, to the point that our
true identity is lost.
In many human activities, from the workplace to the theatre, we also recognize archetypes (from the Greek = original model).
Archetypes are recognizable symbols or patterns, which may be
simplified (stereotypes) or exaggerated (caricatures) to increase their
recognizability. Humans are, after all, pattern recognizers, and
putting a label on a certain type of character or behaviour enables us
to think and communicate with others about it in a meaningful way. If
we say Obama acts presidential in the same way that Kennedy did, for
example, we are establishing Kennedy as an archetype. The cliché about
"they broke the mold after they made her" likewise identifies someone
as an archetype. All similar people thereafter "in the same mold" are
merely copies.

Much
use is made of archetypes in the writing and criticism of literature,
in art, and in psychology. Many of the gods of different religions are
archetypal -- intended as models to study or follow. The cards of the
Tarot deck, especially the major arcana, are also archetypes, handy in
the search for patterns of people and behaviours necessary to tell
fortunes.
Three years ago I
wrote about
one of those Tarot archetypes, The Fool or Jester, and specifically the
interpretation of one Australian writer of the card's meaning:
The
archetype of the wise Fool is one that is found in many cultures in all
parts of the world. His lack of experience in the ways of society is
seen on the surface to be a disadvantage, but in reality it ensures
that his mind is not closed to unusual experiences that are denied to
ordinary men.
He is the vagabond who exists on the fringe of
organized life, going his own way, ignoring the rules and taboos with
which men seek to contain him. He is the madman who carries within him
the seeds of genius, the one who is despised by society yet who is the
catalyst which will transform that society.
The Fool is the
Green Man, the harbinger of a new cycle of existence, the herald of new
life and fresh beginnings. He can be seen as the innocent spirit about
to embark on physical incarnation; the young child who has yet to learn
of the perils of the world; or as the seeker after enlightenment
chasing the elusive butterfly of intuition in the hope that it will
lead to the mysteries.
In the earlier article I wrote about cats as exemplars of Playing the Fool: "I have seen cats
of all ages, cats of amazing wisdom and style who otherwise show
themselves to be cunning and astonishingly self-sufficient, chase a
piece of string dragged by a child around the house for an hour or
more, indefatigably and with enormous concentration, creativity and
energy. What is the purpose of this unexpected playfulness? Is this the
cat's way of discharging the tension and anxiety that preoccupies her
more sombre and sober moments? Is it her way of teaching the child (or
the adult, since I get great pleasure from such games, until usually
some intrigued child coaxes the string away from me to learn more about
this magic trick) important lessons about instinct, about reflexes,
about strategy, about the need for play, and a hundred other lessons we
are too besotted with WeltSchmertz (sadness over the evils of the world) to appreciate?"
I
got to thinking, after reading Chris Corrigan blogging cryptically
about learning the value of Playing the Fool at OSonOS, about whether
the injection, into an Improv session or an Open Space session, of
someone Playing the Fool or some other archetype, as a role, a persona,
might be beneficial in getting new perspectives and breakthroughs for
the group. The Fool is, after all, the naive seeker of knowledge and
self-knowledge. Could someone Playing the Fool ask just the right
"stupid questions" to get a group grappling with a complex problem out
of their thinking rut? How about someone playing The Magician, the
powerful, self-confident master who knows, and shows, that all he and
others thought was true is just illusion?
The Magician card
reversed is the Juggler, the indigenous Trickster, a conjurer who shows
how illusions can wreak real magic (like the colourful butterfly wing
that contains no pigment, whose rainbow of hues is the optical
deception created by the way the wing's molecules are layered). What
value could be achieved by having someone adept at biomimicry
delighting and inspiring the group with nature's own tricks to overcome
adversity, as they struggle with an intractable human problem?
Or
how about planting a Hanged Man in their midst, one who is willing to
let go of everything he has always been told is true, to look at the
world from a fresh and inverted perspective, and trust his instincts
and subconscious? Or the Hermit, the one who keeps bringing everything
back to reflection, self-organization, self-sufficiency, adaptation,
when the group is clamouring for the politicians or management to fix
the problem, or calling for a committee, or a revolution?
And of
course, we could always plant the Devil. Imagine the creative conflict
and friction that might come from having a Devil's advocate in the
room, arguing, just for the sake of challenging all conventional wisdom
and the propensity for groupthink.
Dave Snowden has warned me
that for such mischievous plantings to work in Open Space and other
types of event whose group dynamic is based on trust, the provocateurs
would have to be Actors, clearly identified as such, wearing the
appropriate 'mask' or accoutrements of their persona. To have someone
within the group do this surreptitiously, he suggests, would be a
betrayal of the group's trust and throw the authenticity of everything
in the event into doubt.
I'm not so sure. I've played the Fool
and the Devil and other archetypal roles in meetings, not dishonestly
but just to stir things up when I felt that stirring up was needed.
I've seen other people move into these and other roles, and the effect
on groups is astonishing, perhaps for the same reason that
self-deprecation is so powerful in Improv comedy sessions.
Those
of us who are continuously learning have all of these archetypes within
us, and for them to emerge as personas is, I think, the most natural
thing in the world. Kittens and puppies playing together take turns in
the dominant (Magician) and submissive (Fool) role, and this is how
they learn about complexity, about how to solve problems, and
ultimately, about their own identity.
Perhaps what we need is to
give each participant in a problem-solving or brainstorming event a set
of cards representing all the common archetypes, and have people
self-identify and 'wear' the card which represents the persona that has
emerged for them, that they are playing, at any point in time during
the event. We might learn as much about ourselves as we do about the
challenge the event is about. I think de Bono used something like this
in his Six Thinking Hats creativity sessions. Some of the more
sophisticated emoticons (e.g. the wink) serve a similar purpose, of giving the listener context for "where we're coming from" in this.
Some
of the desktop videoconferencing tools allow participants to put up an
emoticon indicating how they feel about what they're hearing (happy,
unhappy, excited, confused) so speakers who can't 'see' the audience
can get feedback that way, without interrupting the event.
In
Second Life we've been using the Talking Stick and a Placeholder to
encourage group listening and manage the order of conversations, and to
'park' subjects to be discussed once the current one has run its course.
It
would be interesting to see whether, in real-time, face-to-face events
like Open Space, and in real and virtual conversations and group
discussions, we could develop a
whole set of "where I'm coming from now" emoticons and archetypal
symbols, that we could each display and change on the fly, so that we
could accurately 'read' all of the other participants as we spoke and
listened. A new, unspoken, supplementary language.
I
suspect that animals in the wild, wild children, and perhaps some
indigenous peoples, have no need for such artifacts -- they can sense
what is not said much better than we can, and they probably have less
'gunk' preventing them from knowing themselves well enough to signal
and read accurately "where they're coming from" without the need for
artifacts. But we've largely lost that sensing capacity and that deep
self-knowledge.
Anyone up for inventing, and learning, a new language?
Category:
Language and Communication