In Protest of Dullness, or Why I’m Glad Our President Reads Novels
By Anne Stameshkin
This nearly week-old David Brooks op-ed is infuriating for many reasons (such as its writer’s blatant scoffing at and outright denial of–despite the current economic disaster–the notion that to run a truly successful company or country, a leader should have the prescience to realize that the world around him or her is always changing, the ability to connect with and understand that world and the people in it, and the imagination and flexibility to adjust to that world’s advancements and its people’s diverse and changing needs), but in the name of this website and our shared passion for fiction, dear readers, I’ll just say I’m particularly offended by the implication that reading novels will make you a bad businessperson and leader.
According to Brooks (and his analysis of several studies about C.E.O.’s), the “greater psychological insight” and “feel for human relationships” that novels encourage in us are liabilities in leaders; he tells us that “[w]arm, flexible, team-oriented and empathetic people are less likely to thrive as C.E.O.’s. Organized, dogged, anal-retentive and slightly boring people are more likely to thrive…the best C.E.O.’s were not the flamboyant visionaries. They were humble, self-effacing, diligent and resolute souls who found one thing they were really good at and did it over and over again” and “All this work is a reminder that, while it’s important to be a sensitive, well-rounded person for the sake of your inner fulfillment, the market doesn’t really care. The market wants you to fill an organizational role.”
Um, since when does being sensitive or good with people stop at “inner fulfillment”? As you’ll see if you dare to stumble through this article, its logic doesn’t really add up. A “humble” person often *is* a good listener, one who isn’t “resolute” about doing the same thing over and over again. And where is this “flamboyant visionary” whose bane is empathy? [OK, maybe here. But Reverend Billy's run for NYC mayor is much, much more about raising awareness for issues than it is about trying to actually win...he's no wannabe C.E.O. And one of the most successful politician-C.E.O.s out there, Mayor Bloomberg himself, turns Brooks' argument to stone again and again by advocating visionary (and if not flamboyant, certainly flamboyant-friendly) policies.]
Brooks gets especially affronted about the supposed evil moral influence the government (namely our warm-and-fuzzy, listening, novel-reading president) is having on businesses by, um, bailing them out — but where was all this indignation when big businesses were ruthlessly and illegally imposing their will on the government and the American people during Bush’s presidency? Some especially articulate refutations to this editorial are here and here.
Those refutations are way more articulate than mine (which mostly amount to, “oh please, come ON, are you kidding me”), but as a former and still-loyal DC resident, I took special offense at this, from Brooks’ concluding thoughts:
“Literary culture has thrived in Boston, New York and on campuses. Political culture has thrived in Washington.”
I know an awful lot of DC authors who prove that untrue again and again, and anyone who’s ever checked out the schedule at Politics and Prose knows that literary culture is FULL of politicians and journalists writing everything they can think of, including novels. What a lame argument.
Brooks’s argument seems related to the kerfuffle over whether a Supreme Court justice should have “empathy.” Both suggest that emotional sensitivity, psychological insight, and a better understanding of human relationships–nay, humanness–are bad things, and that robot-like behavior is what’s really needed. Doesn’t “fill an organizational role” translate, more or less, to “be a cog, please”? In the end, both of these arguments seem to say that the ideal CEO, president, and SCOTUS justice would be… a computer. Organized, diligent, attentive to detail, persistent, efficient, analytic, good at repetitive tasks, and able to work long hours (as long as the power doesn’t go out).
This passage also sparked serious cognitive dissonance for me:
The alleged logic here is so convoluted that trying to straighten it out feels futile, but here goes anyway. In plain English, Brooks argues that:
CEOs are boring.
Writers do not admire boring people. Instead, they admire “self-expression and self-exploration.”
Writers write only about things and people they admire and understand.
Conversely, if a subject appears in a novel, it must be something the writer admires and understands.
Therefore, if a writer admired or understood business, he or she would certainly write a novel about it.
However, Brooks cannot think of a novel that “portrays business accurately.”
Conclusion: writers–and academics and the media–do not understand business.
*sproink*
I’m not sure Brooks sees the distinction between understanding a subject and choosing to write about a subject. His “logic” here depends heavily on a perversion of the write-what-you-know doctrine. But I think it’s safe to say that most writers–and most fiction readers–understand quite a bit more than Brooks appears to in this op-ed. Like Anne, I’m glad our president, at least, is a novel-reader.
(And, because I am suffused with writerly empathy, I’m tempted to send David Brooks a novel to help him achieve some “greater psychological insight.” Suggestions, anyone?