As mentioned in the introductory text (see above) for this blog category, I have formally and publically defined the multi-faceted concept of dialogue with these two simple words: difference engaged.
Among other places, both in print and in public presentation, I proposed this definition in my doctoral dissertation, An Anatomy of Dialogue in Teaching and Learning — Department of Communication, University of Colorado, 2011.
Unbelievably (and without precedent, anywhere!), my five-name “signature page” — that is, my all-important (to me) doctoral committee — included three inductees in my field’s lifetime achievement hall of fame, two of whom also served as past-presidents of the International Communication Association — the world-wide scholarly organization in my field. Plus, even the chair of this extraordinary department served on my committee. I had to please some incredible critics — luckily, they were also my teachers and mentors.
Of course, by dialogue, I refer not to lines spoken by characters in a play, film, or other dramatic production (that’s one kind of “dialogue”), but to the potent and satisfying mode of two or more human beings thinking and speaking collaboratively, despite significant differences in perspective and opinion regarding the matter under discussion.
Allow me to parse out this definition of dialogue — that is, pull apart and examine the parts that make up the whole.
Defining “difference” — I really did “write the book“
First and foremost — as battled almost to the point of bloodshed in my PhD dissertation defense — by “difference” I do not restrict my meaning to what I consider the superficial and highly politicized definition of “difference,” where what matters most is not whatever makes a person unique, but, instead, the opposite: one’s “category of difference.” I am “different” only if I belong to a group of people who are all “different” in the same way that I am different! Reader-student, do you see the irony here?
Even among brilliant, pre-eminent scholars, such as I faced in defending my dissertation (publically, as required by state law), a strong cultural (academic culture, in this case) bias steers understandings of “difference” to hinge on certain categories of people, preferably categories presumed as “marginalized.”
That is, within the academic culture prevalent since roughly the ’80s (personal estimation, having been there), especially in the social sciences (my realm), all members of presumedly “marginalized groups” — all different in the same way, evidently — automatically counted as “different” and thereby received special attention by scholars, not to mention special “success” programming and funding, as students.
Personally, I’ve devoted my career to student success, so I’m in favor of any such programming, for any group or individual — I will never split hairs on who deserves it or who does not. I’m just glad for that kind of programming and funding at all. I have seen its effects spread helpfully and widely, right in my classes. Student success in this corner leads to student success in that corner. That’s not the problem.
The problem is academic
The problem (to me, as a theorist of dialogue) comes from being questioned as to whether my “difference” is different enough, if it does not center on “marginalized groups.” For the record — and this is a matter of public record (plus, I recorded my whole defense on my voice recorder, so I have proof! somewhere) — I stated directly that the “difference” I mean to “engage” via my two-word definition of dialogue does not refer to categories of people, but to individuals, including, of course, each and every member of each and every category one cares to assign.
My challenging adversary (actually a favorite and highly impactful professor, but right now the grand inquisitor) got knocked back a step by my bold and pointed criticism of his “difference.” I could see that, and so could other people, as he followed up with, “Then how exactly do you define difference?” I answered (heart pounding, but I could not show it), “Not the same. It’s as simple as that.”
I stood by my non-traditional stance (eschewing categories of difference) and explained, “If two people are not the same, then they are different, and, yes, it is exactly that difference that I wish to engage. It is their difference, not necessarily anyone else’s.” Reader-student, I wish you could have seen it. You’d have been so proud.
“Enlarging” the dialogue literature
I don’t mean to overdramatize things, I just want you to know that when I discuss matters of dialogue, I have, as they say, done my homework on the subject. In fact, to graduate with my doctorate, where I was sudying, I had to demonstrate that my work was breaking new ground in “the literature.”
Showing a mastery of the literature (in this case, as regards dialogue) is just the warm-up. Then I had to explain and defend my research study and also demonstrate, convincingly, that my conclusions served to enlarge the literature meaningfully. “You can’t just prove you know it — you have to add to it.”
In my case, I showed that the existing literature on “dialogue in education” applied exclusively to K-12 environments, as did the broader umbrella of “communication in the classroom.” All of those many books and articles are aimed at (and derive from) teaching school kids. There was no literature at all as regards dialogue in teaching at the university level.
Young adults — sometimes not that young, as in adult education, where I have taught profusely — will and should engage in dialogue in their classrooms very differently from how K-12 school kids would participate in what could be called dialogue. I fixed that hole. Pretty cool, huh?
But does it really work?
Yes I am quite proud, especially given the unprecedented committee that signed off on my scholarly magnum opus. After that, I turned my attention fully back to where it had always thrived, my teaching. But now, this would mean teaching almost exclusively writing, a job I was offered on the spot, upon graduating. Taking that job meant that I would not have to move for my next job, which clinched the deal.
And, all wound up as a communication theorist, I dove into this new job (teaching writing mega full time) committed (to myself) to ramp up how I understand and teach my”system” of writing, which I had been developing for some 20 years. Lots of experimentation and student success led to what I now call my “activated writing” system. I did not further pursue my scholarly track on dialogue theory; I wanted to try it and refine it, in the classroom, and I did.
I like sharing the history behind the things I teach, because I have found that such perspective can really aid the learning I am after. When students know where something is coming from, they learn it in more meaningful and productive ways and seem to not just “retain it longer,” but to build on it through their own unfolding experience. See what I am after — with you?!
“Difference engaged” — but how?
With my main goal for this post — to set up further “dialogue” posts by presenting some key definitions and show their derivation — pretty well in hand, I want to end this post, introducing dialogue, with something practical for you, as a little reward for taking the time to read all this.
I’ll be writing more posts on the how-to of dialogue, including some different perspectives on this (speaking of knowing my literature). But, for this first post, I want to give you something practical and specific, coming from the very heart of the dialogue theory I developed in my dissertation (and some earlier papers, along the way). Here is the practical nugget I will share right now:
When we are presented with “difference” (say, someone praises something you, personally, strongly dislike), our typical, culturally-correct mode of response calls for us to lie to some degree and indicate some amount of approval or acceptance — from an outright lie, like “Yes, I’ve read that book,” to maybe just a head nod and slight smile and then quick change of subject (not really a lie, but, yes, a minor cover-up).
It would come off as rude to answer honestly, even if trying for tact, as in, “Actually, I really don’t enjoy that kind of humor very much.” (The “actually,” “really, and “very much” could work as softeners to help with the desired tact, but, let’s face it: Most people would simply not go there and just fudge some interest, in the name of “politeness.”
Well, if dialogue requires difference engaged, then — assuming the situation is not aleady strained or somehow at risk — you might try a more-creative and truly tactful way of indicating that your tastes differ in this regard. Then you will have “engaged difference.”
The hope (to be discussed further in a separate post) is that your openness (to the “risk of honesty“) leads to a discussion that becomes meaningful and special to both you and your “interlocutor” — your co-talker.
There. Now you’ve learned a new and relevant term, to go with your new and relevant prospective strategy. Notice how this strategy I have recommended nudges things in the direction of authenticity! What have I been telling you? “It’s all connected,” on this site, I promise!