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  • Intent doesn’t count

    Intent doesn’t count

    Back in high school, one of my teachers had a favorite phrase she had to use after pretty much every test when students would come to her desk to complain about their grade. Roughly translated from Dutch: “If I’d grade your intent, you’d all be straight A students”.

    To be fair, that wasn’t true for everyone, but it most definitely was for most of us.

    Assume positive intent

    One of the first things you’ll hear when joining a company that does most of its internal communication via digital channels, like Slack or email, is the mantra “assume positive intent”. And that makes sense, because written words lack all the non-verbal queues that you’d get in an in-person conversation. And so, they can feel harsh, unfriendly or even flat-out hostile. But especially when you’re communicating with non-native speakers, that might not be their intent at all.

    Most of the time, a question really is a question, not a passive-agressive statement or judgement.

    “Assume positive intent” invites you to read a message in several ways, and assume the most positive possible way. It invites you to assume that the sender of said message is not angry, mad, or frustrated unless they explicitly say so. Jen McFarland wrote a series of articles about this back in 2016.

    When involved in online communication, “assume positive intent” (or API for short) is a great way of not getting into unnecessary fights all the time. It’s super valuable.

    The responsibility of the sender

    API is aimed at the receiver of a message. It invites the recipient to assume the sender of a message meant well. But that doesn’t excuse the sender from any and all responsibilities. On the contrary. Assuming positive intent should be a fallback for when the sender fails to clearly communicate what they mean.

    So, as a sender you have the responsibility to not just type a clear message, but also consider its form, and the ways it might be interpreted by the receiver. You may need to add, remove, or change words to remove ambiguity in intent. Or, sometimes adding an emoji can make all the difference.

    An example

    You’ve just sent your employer a report. Their response is “I’d like to see you in my office to discuss this.”. It could be that they’re not happy with the report. It could also be that they want to discuss some of your findings. Or, they’re super happy about the report and want to congratulate you. You don’t know. Using API, you’d reach the conclusion that they didn’t say you f’d up. But that does require a lot from you as receiver of the message.

    Now what if your employer had said “Well done! I’d like to discuss your findings. Can you come to my office, please?”? Wouldn’t that have been much clearer, and a lot less stressful?

    It’s not all about intent

    Even when you mean well, you can do, say or type things that hurt others. Unlike physical pain, hurting people with words usually isn’t visible, especially when those words are received asynchronously via written communication.

    Two weeks ago I wrote about a situation where, despite assumed positive intent, the result is subpar, to say the least.

    I’m not innocent either. Not long ago, during an in-person conversation I was playfully joking about an event that had happened years before. When I made the joke, I did not realize at all how sensitive that topic was to them. I consider myself lucky they had the courage to confront and educate me. It gave me the opportunity to apologize and make sure that never happens again.

    It’s easy enough to imagine how much worse this would have been for them, had it been in written conversation without the obvious non-verbal queues that I was saying this as friendly banter.

    So even with the best intentions, we can screw up our messages. We can screw up getting our message across to the people we talk to, work with, care about, and/or love.

    Stop abusing API

    When a shitty message is sent, it’s completely unfair to then turn to the recipient of said message and tell them to “just use API”. We cannot abuse “assume positive intent” to cover up the fact the sender did a poor job in their communication. No, first and foremost we have to educate the sender that what they did was not OK.

    We’re not all straight A students

    I really meant to ace all my tests in high school. But, I oftentimes got things wrong. Despite my positive intent, I wasn’t a straight A student, because my teachers did not grade me for intent, but for the results I produced.

    And I think that’s a lesson we should all remember when we’re talking about “assume positive intent” online. We do mess up. Sometimes badly. And that’s OK. We can apologize and learn. We can grow.

    Good intentions oftentimes aren’t enough. It’s the result that counts most.

  • Community, and a metaphor

    Community, and a metaphor

    I’ve been working with WordPress for over 10 years. Or should I say “around WordPress”? Because unlike many of the amazing web developers I know, I’ve not built (many) websites on WordPress. I wouldn’t survive Jamie’s speed build challenge.

    Instead, I’ve been working with the people who build the websites, with the people who build the plugins, with the people who build WordPress core. And that’s what I like best about WordPress; the people.

    The WordPress Community

    Those people in and around WordPress make what we call the WordPress community, which is an extremely vague definition. But, that’s ok. It’s not up to me to decide who is or isn’t in the community. I feel a system of self-classification works well here. Speaking for myself, I most definitely consider myself part of the WordPress community.

    It’s a community that meets online. On GitHub, Trac, wordpress.org, in Slack (a lot of Slacks actually), Facebook groups, LinkedIn communities, Reddit, and discord, to name just a few.

    It’s also a community that meets offline. At WordCamps, meetups, and many other conferences around the globe.

    These local and global communities of WordPress enthusiasts are quite special. Despite the fact they mostly consist of competitors, you’ll find they all have a relaxed, cooperative vibe. People genuinely care about WordPress, open source, and each other.

    Friends

    More than once, I’ve said the WordPress community consists of friends, and friends I’ve never met before. And while I won’t invite everyone to my birthday party (not even when I turn 40 next year), I do consider them friends. Why? Because I can always turn to the people in the WordPress community for advice. For a helping hand. Or, to lend a hand when they need one.

    Even when I don’t always agree with some company’s policies or business ethics, I still may be able to help my friends do better, or make the best of it.

    A metaphor

    Everyone who’s ever worked with wood knows that driving a nail in a piece of wood might crack it, depending on the type of wood, the size of the nail and its location. Any nail will cause damage to wood. But, when applied correctly, it can help you build a strong structure, larger than any single piece of wood.

    But, if you do it wrong, it will hurt your structure. You’ll hurt the solidity of the wood. Maybe at first, you won’t see a crack, you won’t see the wood split. But as you continue to drive in the nail, you’ll see that crack become visible, and at some point even irreparable.

    I was there. I was there in the room. I was there in the room when the leader of WordPress started pounding a nail into the WordPress community. At first, it only hurt the people who were hit directly. However, over time, as he decided to continue to pound the nail, the once perfectly formed and polished WordPress community started to crack. By now, a clearly visible crack has formed.

    Any craftsman would know to stop pounding the nail to prevent further damage. Any craftsman would know that at this point, the crack is still reparable. Yet what we’re seeing in WordPress is the opposite.

    The effect

    What I already see happening is splinters flying off. Splinters that were at the core of our polished piece of wood. Splinters that were together forming a strong part of our piece of wood have been forcefully removed, or sprang off because they couldn’t take the constant beating.

    Our piece of wood will never be the same.

    Leaving the metaphor, what I see happening is people who were heavily invested in WordPress walk off, or being forced to step away. I’m seeing a community that’s hurting because of pain that’s constantly being inflicted. I’m seeing a community that’s increasingly wondering if they’ll still have clients next year. If they’ll still have a job. I’m seeing a community that wants the pounding to end.

    I’m seeing friends get hurt. Emotionally and financially. And I want it to stop.

    How does this continue?

    I don’t know.

    I do have a dream though. I dream that Matt stops pounding. I dream that Matt joins forces with Joost and Karim. I dream that everyone involved pulls their weight to create a strong and healthy structure, together.

    Because in the end, all I really want is to hang out with my friends -old and new- in this amazing community, and see and help them thrive.