STUBBORN IN THE USA

Every so often I come across a student who is especially stubborn about a design.

And by stubborn I mean that they reject every single suggestion I make to improve it.  I can coerce, insist, explain, cajole, or even fall back on the age-old age-and-experience gambit, but no dice.

I am never quite sure what to say when we reach an impasse; after all, I am the teacher and so my word should be law.  But it is ultimately the student’s own design to stand by for their own reasons.  I usually resolve this by making it clear that the student is the designer and it is their choice but I am the grader – or viewer, or client – and evaluating it will be my choice.

In truth, and don’t let my students hear this, I appreciate and even respect the role of stubborness in the creative process; to me, it is just under ingenuity and flexibility as key virtues.  In fact, I am stubborn myself as a designer and my career has taught me that this is a blessing not a curse.

 The problem with it in students is one of two things.  Either they do not have enough experience – certainly compared to mine – to have earned the right to be stubborn.  Or, I simply do not like people disagreeing with me.  Why?  Because I am stubborn.  And round and round it goes.

But there is a limit both for myself and for my students, a point at which being committed or certain about one’s own work starts to trend into – or actually devolve into – my way, no matter how wrongheaded, or the highway.  And that is a dangerous path for anyone, designer included.  When does ego become egotism?  When does stubborn for good reasons – creative ones – become stubborn for bad ones like inflexibility?

When I think of this, I am always reminded about a famous incident that happened in the mid-1990s and serves as a good example of the difference between stubborn good and stubborn dumb.  It was something that actually took place; it is not a fable, although it certainly has that quality to me as I recall it.  What follows is a verbatim transcript of an actual radio conversation between a US naval ship and Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October, 1995.  It was released by the US Chief of Naval Operations in that same year.

AMERICANS:

Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.

CANADIANS:

Recommend you divert your course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.

AMERICANS:

This is the Captain of a US Navy ship.  I say again, divert your course.

CANADIANS:

No, I say again, you divert your course.

AMERICANS:

This is the aircraft carrier USS Lincoln, the second largest ship in the United States Atlantic Fleet!  We are accompanied by three destroyers, three cruisers, and numerous support vessels.  I demand that you change your course to 15 degrees north.  That is one-five degrees north, or countermeasures will be taken to ensure the safety of this ship.

CANADIANS:

This is a lighthouse.  Your call.

Hmmm. 

And the moral of this little tale? 

It is good for a designer to be stubborn.  But only when you have the right to be.