Originally published within "Under the Covers," from Signature Magazine, 7/15/20
When the editors of Signature presented me with this issue’s cover topic — advocacy — I immediately knew what I didn’t want us to put on the cover: bullhorns. You’ve seen the images a hundred times: well-tailored men and women, singly or together, shouting into bullhorns, as if this was something people ever do, especially when trying to convince legislators to pay attention.
Given the interesting times we’re cursed to live in, it seemed we’d have a rich visual well from which to draw regarding the simple act of speaking out. As the cover story was being written, the country was still reeling from waves of protests in the wake of George Floyd’s death (protests marked by a conspicuous absence of bullhorns). A long line of institutions, commercial and otherwise, issued statements of solidarity and support for social justice in general and Black Lives Matter, in particular.
As the article came together, Associate Editor Thomas Marchetti shared a few choice quotes with me, and they bore out this new-found spirit of conscience:
“Only one police officer actually murdered George Floyd, but the other three were silent. What are you making your association complicit in by being silent?”
“I think it is as straight-forward as recognizing that the industries or individuals we represent cannot truly fully succeed if our society is ill.”
“Leadership means pushing the envelope. When this doesn’t happen, connections to members erode, and they begin to question the value of their membership.”
As I read these comments and others, I started to feel a kinship with these association leaders. It was heartening to see them address matters of social justice, environmental stewardship, and economic equality, among other issues, from a thoughtful and, I imagined, progressive attitude.
But was that right? Was I being nudged by references to what have become associated with “progressive” politics into assuming that all of these association leaders shared my values? A few of them referenced “community.” Whose community?
After all these years in association publishing, it’s become pretty clear that there’s an association for literally everything. How can so many organizations peacefully coexist? It’s only a little hyperbolic to suggest that, for every association, there is an equal and opposite association. That their members share the same political values seems unlikely, at best.
In a time when even the tiniest detail of public life (like, say, wearing protective masks during a pandemic) has become politicized, is there any safe territory left? As my head filled with cover images of placards, marching feet, and raised fists, I worried about alienating readers who felt protective of the status quo. I may disagree, but I can acknowledge that the contrary side argues from a position of honesty. The siren lure of the bullhorn grew ever stronger.
I spoke with Thomas, and Signature’s publisher and editorial director, Carla Kalogeridis, about my concerns. As usual, they set me on the right path: The enemy isn’t individual political issues, they assured me. Silence is the enemy. Organizations — be they associations, corporations, or governments — that stay quiet give tacit approval to injustice through their silence, no matter what form that injustice may assume.
With this, we had something. Rather than illustrating the solution, we would tackle the problem. Representing the absence of an element can be tricky, especially an element as invisible as sound. Fortunately for me, there was a ready-made hand gesture that instantly represented not just silence, but the command to remain silent — an almost violent prohibition, under the right circumstances.
But a raised finger on the lips wasn’t enough by itself. I felt that the finger should represent something: Fear? Stagnation? Arrogance? The very worst visual metaphors filled my mind, unbidden. Could the finger be a flagpole? How about a sword? A pen (which is, of course, mightier)? I don’t know exactly when one particular finger entered my thinking process, but it’s embarrassing to admit that I actually needed time to get there.
I hesitate to say that the rest was easy, but it was certainly easy for me. I handed off the idea to a ridiculously talented illustrator, Eric Petersen, whose work you can continue to enjoy in the cover story. Eric’s work has graced the pages of Wired, The New York Times, Fortune, and a long list of other distinguished publications and websites. We were lucky to grab him.
A final word about those bullhorns and the reasons I clearly dislike them: I’ve hardly ever seen them used peaceably. As I researched images to use at the top of this column, I found that, in every scene with multiple characters, the face of the wielder of the bullhorn was invariably twisted into a paroxysm of fury. Bullhorns add volume, which helps, but absent a thoughtful message, volume is just as crude a message-delivery system as a raised middle finger, if popular imagery is anything to go by.
On the other hand, perhaps that’s the point.
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