John Creighton

When is it appropriate to boo the President of the United States?

Let me back up and ask when is it appropriate to boo anyone?

The purpose of catcalls such as boos is to convey contempt or disapproval punctuated by an exclamation point.  In other words, when we want to make it unambiguously clear that we don’t like someone or don’t approve of their actions, we boo.

We are most accustomed to this type of heckling at sporting events.  Crowds boo the opposing team or game officials when they disagree with a call — even if the call was accurate — that goes against their team.

We teach our children not to boo at youth sporting events.  We tend to discourage heckling at the high school level, too.  But, fans who pay significant sums of money for event tickets feel little or no compunction about sharing their negative feelings with the world.  Indeed, sporting event jeers are socially acceptable.

Why do we find heckling professional athletes acceptable but not other professionals?  The gallery seldom boos a lawyer making her closing arguments.  Hecklers are not allowed in the operating room when doctors do surgery.  College students may whisper disapproval but rarely yell catcalls at a professor delivering a lecture.

Clearly a sporting event is a different environment than court, surgery or school.  The outcome of a sporting event doesn’t matter in the end because it is just a game.   These venues are one place we can all let our hair down and cheer… or jeer.

I was in Allen Field House in Lawrence, Kansas watching my beloved Jayhawks easily defeat their instate rival Kansas State Wildcats.  It was a night of cheers.  It was senior night.  Fan favorite Sherron Collins was playing his last game in front of the home faithful.

During one of the lengthy television time outs, an MTV-style video featuring Sherron was broadcast on the giant screen hanging above center court.  The video featured pop up trivia about Sherron’s life and interests.  The crowd celebrated each bit of new information.

Midway through the video a pop-up flashed on the screen that read: “Who is the one person Sherron would like to trade places with?”  A picture of President Obama appeared on the screen with the words, “Fellow Chicagoan President Barack Obama.”

The cheers stopped.  The crowd reflexively boo’d the President.  Hisses were audible in my section.  The video moved on to new tidbits and the celebratory mood resumed.

I’m not surprised that President Obama lacks popularity in Kansas — even in a relatively liberal college town.  President Obama’s popularity is flagging everywhere.  I was mildly surprised by the visceral response of emphatic disapproval expressed by a crowd otherwise in an extremely good mood.

The momentary chorus of jeers led me to my question.  When is it okay to boo the President of the United States?  Is it more appropriate at a sporting event — a venue where heckling those you don’t like is considered to be socially acceptable behavior?  Or, does the office of the President deserve respect under any condition?

I live in Boulder County, Colorado.  The residents of southwest Boulder county — Boulder proper — are about as liberal as any group of people in the country.  Few people who call the city of Boulder home hold affection for former President George W. Bush.

I have observed, since the 2000 Election, abhorrent bumper stickers on people’s cars protesting our 43rd President.  I believe in free speech.  I don’t appreciate having to explain to my young children slogans that turn the names of President Bush and Vice President Cheney into crude sexual vulgarities.  Each time I saw those bumper stickers I felt my own visceral reaction: Show the office of President respect; I don’t care how much you despise the current office holder.

Now the political tables are turned.  Republicans are no longer in power.  Democrats are.  The jeering once denounced by supporters of President Bush is being returned in full force directed at President Obama.  One side can’t claim behavioral superiority over the other.  Jeering our elected leaders is now just as socially acceptable as booing officials at a sporting event.

The degree to which we shout each other down is a relatively new development in public life.  There always has been venomous speech in politics.  But, bitter speech tended to be at the margins rather than a staple of conversation.  At least, that’s what I witnessed in the 1970s, 1980s and early 1990s.

Perhaps the shift toward crude speech is correlated to politics becoming more entertainment than substance.  Our political leaders now parade on cable television as if they are panelists on the Jerry Springer Show.  They gather in twos or fours (always important to be balanced) and bicker with each other in ways we would never tolerate at our own dinner tables.  If it is okay for political leaders to trash talk each other why shouldn’t we trash talk them?

Crude speech is not the greatest challenge we face in our society.  But, the tenor of our discourse is both a measure of past success and an indicator of future potential to get things done.  The more we shout each other down the less likely we will agree on plans for action.

There is a need for tough conversations in public life.  It is important to preserve room for people to criticize policies and actions they do not support.  It also is important to preserve respect for the office people hold even when we don’t respect the person who holds the office.  We can start this effort with thoughtful consideration of the question:  When is it appropriate to boo the President of the United States?

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John Creighton can be found on Twitter @johncr8on and on Facebook.

Photo Credit: Lucy Boynton (Flickr)

How do we enable children to gain a sense of ownership in groups and organizations of which they are part?  One way is to let them use community spaces as they see fit.

I always felt that the United Methodist Church in Atwood, Kansas was MY church.  It was much more than the place I went on Sunday mornings.  It was like a second home.

One reason I felt so comfortable at the Methodist Church is that I participated in a wide range of activities.  I sang in the youth choir.  I was a regular at Sunday School.  I was an enthusiastic member of MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship).  I was a huge fan of church potlucks (except for the time I took rhubarb pie by mistake thinking it was cherry).  It was a place where I spent many hours.

It was weekday afternoon hide-and-seek games that made the church seem much than just a place to go.  Our hide-and-seek games were not church sanctioned activities.  To this day, I’m unsure of whether adults were aware or not.  We never advertised our games to parents or other adults.  We didn’t really hide what we were doing, either.  That would have been impossible given the loud nature of our games.

The Atwood grade and junior high schools were located directly across the street from the Methodist Church.  It was a perfect place for young boys to stop and blow off steam after being cooped up for hours in a classroom.  We could usually round up at least four or five boys for our version of hide-and-seek better described as hide, chase and tackle.  A player wasn’t “found” until he was unambiguously tagged, which usually meant dropping the fugitive to the ground.

The church was never locked — at least, not all the doors were locked.  We tried to avoid the entrance by the pastor’s office.  Again, we weren’t necessarily trying to hide what we were doing.  We just figured fewer questions is always better than more.

The church building was, in fact, a group of buildings tied together by a convoluted series of halls and staircases.  We liked to enter down a long staircase into the old church basement which served as a fellowship hall for many years.  The basement was like an old gym complete with stage on one side and a large kitchen on the other.  The original sanctuary was up two flights of stairs.  Behind the old sanctuary, was an area where families gathered before funerals and the choir before Sunday service.

The new sanctuary sat to the north and extended to the east of the original building.  This portion included a balcony overlooking the sanctuary and to the side, an adult classroom, the pastor’s offices and an entrance hall for the choir behind the church alter.  The basement addition contained six to ten classrooms and a large nursery.

The combination of rooms with multiple exits, staircases and hallways was a better than any labyrinth.  We used all the space the church had to offer, including on occasion the bathtub designed for baptisms buried in the basement stage and the large air ducts in the older parts of the building.

My favorite hiding place was the old sanctuary.  It had the most favorable escape routes to evade pursuers.  I could exit toward the back, down the stairs to the fellowship hall, across the basement “gym” and through the kitchen to the new addition classrooms.

The more thrilling route was out the front of the old sanctuary through a series of up and down staircases followed by a long narrow hall.  I would lead my pursuer through this maze and up to the balcony overlooking the new sanctuary.  I would let my advisory believe he had me cornered.  Then, I turned and leaped from the balcony to the wide aisle dividing the two sections of sanctuary pews.

That’s were the pursuit would end.  Unless, I was being chased by a veteran who practiced the balcony tactic, too.  In that case, I hoped not to stumble when I hit the floor so I could make it to he choir hall behind the alter before being tackled from behind.

The Methodist Church became a second home because we had free reign.  One might question the appropriateness of our game — especially in a sanctuary.  Yet, the silent conspiracy between knowing adults (there must have been some) and energetic youth allowed our games to flourish for many years with little or no damage done.  The result was we young people felt a deep sense of affection for our place of worship.

Giving children free reign is a powerful gift.  My experience is that it builds confidence in children as well as a sense of ownership in the places we adults want them to be.

I’m must admit I don’t give my children the latitude to run free as I did as a child.  I tell myself it’s because the town we live in is bigger, the times are different, public buildings are used by more people.  The truth is I need to do a better job to adapt.  Their need for free reign is no different from mine thirty years ago.

What community spaces exist in your community?  How can you help children use these spaces as they see fit rather than only as adults prescribe?

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John Creighton can be found on Twitter @johncr8on and onFacebook.

Photo Credit: Rawlins County Square Deal