This post started as a little rant a few months ago. I got a phone call and was dislodged from ranting. By the time I returned, the fire had smoldered and my interest waned, but I continued to chip away at this newsletter posting. Consider this posting more of a collection of preliminary thoughts on a theological and philosophical exploration of naming conventions. I’m not presenting a formal argument for the use of titles, but instead a reflection on how observing the way people use them or avoid them makes me feel.
We live in an age where regular, dare I say “normal” human behavior is downright scandalous. The inverted reality of our dreams is manifesting in our social discourse—it’s lame. But not all the inversion is on the level of the Multiverse of Madness (if I may). Sometimes, it is merely a reflection of the consciousness of respect or lack thereof that is at stake. Can or should titles be optional in the ways that our naming conventions operate?
Once upon a time, our titles merged with our family names and became proper (i.e. non-optional) ways to refer to us. Abraham the Carpenter in time became Abe Carpenter, whose descendants no longer engage in woodcraft, but instead are musicians. John the Smith became John Smith, and his descendants no longer made swords, nails, and plowshares, but became olympic wrestling phenoms. [This even works across languages… Ibrahim el-Najjar and Hanna Haddad would be Arabic equivalents.] Heck, even my family name—Wingert—is a regional variant of the otherwise High German Weingarten (Vineyard or “Wine Garden”), the place where wine grapes were cultivated. Now I’m far removed from that process and only on the consumer side of the wine industry. While I can also count on enjoying copious amounts of vino on the consumer end of things, I did grow up in California wine country and even played against a high school in our league called Vintage, so perhaps I carry on the legacy somehow… wishful thinking maybe. Nevertheless, these days my name reflects part of my story (and without my ancestry, what would your bacchanals be like?!). It is a title that accreted to my name, but what of titles that are clearly separate from our historical identities?
In listening to sports interviews with coaches, especially college football coaches, I’m struck by the feigned intimacy suggested by reporters. You do not address the football coach as “Hey Lincoln” (Riley), unless you know him really well and the setting dictates personal conversation—maybe at a family cookout or over a beer when he confides in you about his aunt Jinny. During a press conference or in any other public setting, you refer to any coach as ‘coach.’
To be fair, I don’t believe reporters are intentionally trying to be schlubs. Ryan Abraham of usctrojans.com once explained in a podcast with Coach Harvey Hyde that he was told that using the first name is the standard and that he would not call a coach by the title ‘coach,’ “because he’s not my coach.” Let’s be clear: I like Ryan Abraham’s reporting, podcasts, website, etc. It’s just a little disappointing that something as lame as that explanation is the so-called standard. When we meet physicians, we refer to them by their credentials, whether they are our physicians or not. When we encounter those holding political office, we refer to them by their titles Congresswoman, Senator, Mr. President, etc. (well…. maybe we don’t do this with politicians anymore—maybe we should though to assist in the restoration of dignity to those offices; I know… a conversation for another time).
I do believe that familiarity is important and even ideal, but I believe it should be cultivated if not earned—perhaps we could think of it as reverse-engineering the process of being titled. Some of my students call me Mike, others call me Professor or Dr. Wingert. I appreciate the respect shown with the formal titles, and usually when a student calls me by my first name, it is because we have gotten to know one another and that familiarity is established. Whenever a student whom I don’t know well refers to me by my first name, I think “and who are you?” I’d rather build community through the time it takes to get to know someone rather than just assume a pseudo-familiarity.
So what’s ultimately at stake? Does the use of a title better reflect upon the speaker or the person being addressed? In the case of a coach, a senator, or a professor, each of these titles reflects a process by which a person has been elevated to a rank that is meaningful in a society where that rank is applicable. The title acknowledges the setting of not only the speaker and the one being addressed, but of the society at large through which these titles emerge. It reflects a conferred-upon-reality in a world where we participate. One could refer to another without the appropriate title, say by first name only, or by an alternative title like “Hey Asshole!” In the end it is all a reflection of the state of our society, I suppose. Titles tell part of the story of a person’s life, and we can choose to recognize what makes a person or cast it away. Whether we use titles or not isn’t that big of a deal, but maybe it should be.