It’s no surprise that we struggle with change. I freaked out a bit in the spring when McDonald’s stopped serving hot mustard for their nuggets (it really is the most redeeming part of eating chicken nuggets at all). So thank GOD they’ve brought back the mustard!
Change is something we fear. But not all change is terrifying. Not all change makes us ill or outraged. Often, change is the constant in our lives. Change is the different foods and the different systems we adapt to. The different packagings and the different slogans.
Often these changes only pain us when we actually take the time to notice them. Wendy’s changed their logo and their style. It was dramatic, but functionally the same. So did Gordon Foods. Did you even notice?
'What then do we do with change that isn't change?' Click To Tweet
The Logo
What then do we do with change that isn’t change? What of change that only seems like change? Or we mistake for change? This is the case of the University of California’s not new logo they have not adopted. A few years ago, the University went about changing its logo. Only they didn’t. At all.
Cal doesn’t have a logo. There is no logo. There are symbols that have acted as logos, and there are different symbols used by different campuses, but no actual logo. They wanted to explore the creation of a new logo. Not a replacement or universal logo, but a logo that could be added to the variety of options in the whole university system. Something that could be ubiquitous and norm defining.
That distinction was too much for people. And the story of the logo is a pretty fascinating one. The show 99% Invisible covered the story really well. Read the show notes and listen to the program. It is truly fascinating.
But here is the fascinating idea, not about logos per se, or even the bad communication around this particular logo, but about the nature of change and how we perceive change. Even when there is nothing changed, merely added.
In other words, we often seek to hate change, even when it isn’t actually change.
The Castle
A different story comes in the form of Stirling Castle in Stirling, Scotland. The castle has a rich history and stands above the town, conspicuously high. You can’t escape the sight of the castle, and like all conspicuous things, the people who live in Stirling are used to the sight of the castle and its ever presence in their lives.
Stirling Castle is old, clearly. And inevitably needed repairs. These moments are rife with conflict because everyone wants old stuff to be around and to look good. Not everybody agrees that we should do anything to actually make that happen. And others can’t agree on how much we should invest in making that happen. But we all agree that we want to see that castle or that statue or that house, for the most part, preserved.
The castle, like most castles throughout Europe, lived many different lives and looked different in different centuries. As they began an extensive restoration process to protect and restore Stirling Castle, they had to decide which castle were they restoring: the earliest incarnations, later, or some combination perhaps?
What seems like an easy decision is of course, fraught with peril. To restore the castle to its most original state runs the risk of being radically different from the castle the people are most used to seeing: the one weathered and discolored by weather and time. In restoring the castle, we run the risk of restoring glory and character that the people don’t actually want. Of course, this is what happened. The bland, nondescript castle began to shine.
The castle has not looked so much like itself in centuries. And many don’t actually like it. Not only because they aren’t used to it, but because we have different ideas of castles than our ancestors did. Our vision is not of the living, but of the long dead. It is something beyond change and difference and other easy excuses. It is about ugly truths about our history and about ourselves we don’t want to face.
The Material
The most challenging example of our view of change is not when we confuse an addition for a change or a restoration for an eyesore, but when we have completely lost our understanding of why we did something in the first place. A great example are our concrete buildings.
Hating concrete buildings is easy. Dealing with them once built is really, really hard.
Loving concrete buildings is also easy. But it takes learning about architecture or art or regional difference. It takes some actual effort.
If we take the time to understand and observe, we can come to appreciate, even those things we think are hideous. Isn’t that the point of The Beauty and the Beast, after all?
So What Then?
Listening to these episodes of one of my favorite shows, I was struck by the common issue of communication. Of course this would be present. But I was struck more by the place of willful ignorance and self-deception. The place in which it was easier to believe a lie, a half-truth, or unrefined taste as being equal to the knowledge or to the truth itself.
It is easy to say that the responsibility to sell the change is held by the one seeking to change things. It is really, really true. Anyone who has had an original idea and spoken it out loud to other humans knows what that is like. You have to not only have a truly great idea, you have to be able to sell that idea to pretty unwilling people.
I’m wondering why we accept this universally. Why don’t we expect more of our people? Why do we accept a false narrative to direct our behavior? In the case of UC, the demise of a logo that couldn’t replace another logo because there is no other logo, seems pretty crazy! Or in the case of restoring a castle to what it actually looks like, what it is (arguably) supposed to look like, do we reject the restoration because it was both accurate and historical, but not enough “now”? Because it doesn’t conform to the esthetic tastes of the town, we do what exactly? We like restoration as long as it doesn’t accurately restore? Do we accept these as legitimate arguments?
This is especially true of the case for concrete, for Brutalism. I’m guilty of calling a lot of big, square, concrete buildings ugly. And some are truly stunning. But is the ignorant opinion of the populace the same as the informed argument of the elite? and of equal value? Why or why not?
Perhaps I’m naive. I like the idea of a more informed populace having a greater voice. But it requires more of the people. It requires commitment to understanding the situation before them.
It also seems that our problem isn’t really with change. I always go back to this very simple idea. We don’t actually hate change. We use it as an excuse. What we hate is being afraid or confused or conflicted. We don’t like being exposed or vulnerable. We don’t like looking like a fool or having our comfortable illusion of the world challenged.
So I’m beginning to wonder why that makes it my problem to maintain another person’s comfort about the true order of things. Sometimes, there is no logo! It’s not only up to me to explain why and compel him to go along with me, but for him to say why not and compel me.
And I’ve never found “I don’t like it” the least bit compelling.
For More
99% Invisible is a show about design. But it is much more than that. It is about story and the way we think. I highly recommend it. If you haven’t yet listened to the shows I linked to in the article, you can find them here. I highly suggest you listen to all three. It will take you less than hour.
If you want to listen to more episodes of this amazing show, visit the show page or look up 99pi or 99 percent invisible in your podcasting app.
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