Love in the Time of Democracy

What do improv and democracy have in common? Jen Scott, Dennis Curley, and I plan to wrestle–joyfully enough–with this question on Wednesday, September 25 at the Hive Collaborative in Saint Paul at 7:00. Look for ticketing information in the caption beneath Dennis’ enticing poster:

Why would we do this? Without giving everything away, Jen, Dennis, and I plan to create a 90-minute functioning democracy in which improvisers (this could be you!) experience the following:

INSPIRATION: In improv and democracy, we listen closely to our companions and our compatriots so we can address the challenges directly in front of us. We discover the inspiration we need as long as we’re curious, generous, optimistic, and respectful.

COLLABORATION: I’ve taken to saying, “Improv isn’t about you and it isn’t about me; it’s about the worlds we discover together.” I say this–to myself and my students–to deflate the self-consciousness that balloons whenever we show our vulnerabilities. Within the guardrails of a functioning democracy (and an improv circle), we let go of our self-consciousness and get to work together.

COMPROMISE: Yep. We also get to compromise, both as small-d democrats and as improvisers. Of course our stories have value; our values ought to matter, too. But in improv and in the voting booth, we get the opportunity to ask, “How can I make my scene partners, my neighbors, my opponents, my country look as good as possible?” (A challenge, this one.)

NON-VIOLENCE: Improv and democracy crumble when we resort to violence, whether we use our words or our fists. When the dust settles, we’re left with shame, with exhaustion. Our goal in both endeavors is to channel positive energy and keep the game alive!

FLUIDITY: We embrace change–or at least we try to embrace change–on stage and in a democracy. And when chaos inevitably arises, we go back to the humane principles of respect, respect, respect: doing this allows us to grow, knowing that any elusive, ultimate goal will dissolve in the next moment. And then we’ll improvise again.

Look!

This got a bit lofty.

Onward.

I keep thinking about Timothy Snyder’s (amazing) book “On Tyranny” and the lessons he gleaned from the 20th Century on how to fight, well, tyranny. His twelfth lesson on resisting authoritarianism could be lifted directly from any good improv curriculum. Snyder writes:

LESSON #12: Make eye contact and small talk. This is not just polite. It is part of being a citizen and a responsible member of society. It is also a way to stay in touch with your surroundings, break down social barriers, and understand whom you should and should not trust.

Snyder’s advice rolls along amiably until the last clause: “understand whom you should and should not trust.” At first glance this warning seems at odds with the “Yes, and…” philosophy of improvisation. Shouldn’t we remain open to everyone in an improv group? In a democracy? Listen to every voice, even the ones that aim to undermine the group?

The answer to the questions above is a resounding NO!

No? You heard me. In improv we don’t say “yes” to declarations that silence, diminish, or demean another person. We don’t submit to bullies, and we don’t say or do whatever we want with impunity. As with democracy, we don’t just shrug our shoulders at lies, at hate speech, at strong-arm fictions about vulnerable citizens (and guests). We don’t trust grifters and conmen and sexual abusers and toxic narcissists.

Or, at least, we shouldn’t.

Instead, we need to acknowledge these distressing voices. We can respond thoughtfully rather than react. And, in doing so, we shine a light on the destructive power of interpersonal violence. And then we try to do better.

(Maybe I’ve been fortunate, but in over 30 years of teaching improv I’ve only had to stop a destructive scene once or twice. And when I did, the student causing the harm was mortified. Then, crucially, WE TALKED ABOUT IT.)

Here’s how Snyder finishes his lesson on eye contact and small talk:

If we enter a culture of denunciation, you will want to know the psychological landscape of your daily life.

Maybe the USA needs a good improv lesson. The “psychological landscape” of our country has taken a turn for the worse over these past few election cycles. Our social discourse, our dearest friendships, our families have all been infected by a “culture of denunciation.” In improv–as in democracy, perhaps–we try to identify the fear-driven choices that keep us at each other’s throats and, carefully and intentionally, offer alternatives that help us live together harmoniously…or at least more attentively.

Well, shoot. I meant to entice folks to attend our workshop. It will be fun, I promise (have you met Jen Scott and Dennis Curley? Fun, personified!).

I’ll be there, too, trying to channel this happy long-haired dachshund as he looks beyond the frame of this iStock photo at the possibilities of a more promising, more democratic future!

Comments, please.