Friends,
If you’re one of our many genteel members that made the mistake of inquiring how my first few months as SEAONC President went, you probably learned that things were pretty hectic for me this summer. One of life’s wild pitches that I took square on the bean (congratulations, by the way, to the very deserving, blue-chapeau’d World Series Champions from CA) was serving as Juror #9 for a trial at the San Francisco Hall of Justice for six weeks. Unfortunately, “Your Honor, I’m kind of a big deal in the Bay Area Structural Engineering community right now,” doesn’t work as a hardship request, especially if not delivered with genuine verve. Since the proposed schedule wasn’t completely untenable for me, and not wanting to take the chance that my deferred service came up at an even worse time, I took the gamble that my name would not be called for voir dire and I’d be back at the office the next day, as has always been my experience. Well, the lollypop dropped, and I got the fuzzy side.
If you’ve reported to jury duty in the past, you’ve probably watched (or ignored) one of those orientation videos and been told that jury service is apparently the single greatest thing an American citizen can do for their country. Is a fair trial by a jury of your peers a hallmark of democracy (or perhaps its lifeblood, to coin a phrase)? Absolutely. Was serving on a jury the highlight of my life? Far from it. But while I resented the disruption it was causing to my family, my coworkers, and all of you (and thank you, by the way, to everyone for picking up the slack for me during that time!), it was a pretty incredible experience. Not only did I have an excuse to buy a donut or two every morning on my short walk to the courthouse, but I grew my beard out a bit for the first time in awhile and got to wear the same pants and chapeau all week. The subject matter was heavy (it was a hate crime trial), but the testimony was engaging. Free from the constant buzz of my phone and inbox, I was as singularly focused as I’ve been in recent memory.
Capping off the service was a couple weeks of deliberation. The twelve jurors had spoken little until we were sent off into the windowless room furnished and painted (and smelling) just like my elementary school, slate chalkboards and all. Yes, we were all residents of San Francisco County, but it was clear that we had pretty diverse backgrounds and beliefs. It could easily have been a cruel setup for a stalemate after hearing all that testimony, and early polling suggested we were pretty evenly spread along the spectrum of opinions on the verdicts. But that’s not what happened. We studied the evidence, what the law said (and didn’t say), and laid out timelines of events. We separated actual facts from assumptions informed by unconscious biases. We sought out everyone’s thoughts, opinions, and experiences without judgment. We played devil’s advocate, even for ourselves. We heard out everyone whose opinions wobbled after sleeping on things for a night, myself included. Tears were shed, hugs given, birthday cupcakes shared. We gave due process and embraced the presumption of innocence for a person that on the surface might have appeared to be obviously guilty. Twelve complete strangers from different walks of life managed to conduct the heavy business of criminal justice with minimal guidance and came out as friends. It was an inspiring and heartening experience for me as an American and a human, one that I hope I never have to have again before retirement, at which point I’d consider becoming a full-time juror.
As artist Marco Cochrane said at our October meeting in describing the message behind one of his planned monumental pieces, “We’re all good.” He meant that, despite the disparaging language and general breakdown in civility that seems to be the political norm these days, here in the sandbox we’re mostly holding it together and playing nice. Humans fight sometimes, but at our core, most of us are social creatures that would much rather make merry than wage war. I think the existence of an association like ours is Exhibit A: a bunch of competitors deciding that we’d much rather build each other up than run each other into the ground.
I wish I could say we’re completely immune from breakdowns in decorum. SEAONC has experienced a few instances of that in the past few months that have been brought to the attention of the Board, and maybe others that have not. I don’t think this is a completely new or widespread issue. We are passionate about our profession and that can translate into strong opinions on things – I’ve seen benign discussions about seismic design coefficients get unnecessarily heated. I also believe that engaging in healthy technical debate and questioning paradigms is what will continue to keep our field evolving, vibrant, relevant. So, the solution is not to stop talking or avoid uncomfortable topics altogether, it’s to remind ourselves how to talk and conduct ourselves, especially as we start meeting and socializing more often, as is my hope for our Association.
To that end, I have a few reminders and one new announcement:
- SEAONC has a Mission, Vision, and Values, which are worth reviewing from time to time.
- SEAONC has Canons of Ethics, which are also worth reviewing.
- Our Bylaws give the board authority to discipline members for violations of those Canons. I like to call this authority the SEAONC Cannons of Ethics.
- The Board has developed a Code of Conduct, consistent with all of the above documents, that we expect to affirm at our November Board Meeting and introduce ahead of our December Meeting. While our Canons and Bylaws are technically just applicable to our members and more general in nature, this is something that would be applicable to nonmembers as well and with a focus on how we engage in person. We’ll ask that all attendees acknowledge and affirm their commitment to them moving forward.
If you’re the sort of person that wants to be a member of SEAONC, I know that you’re a civil engineer, whether you have a license to practice civil engineering or not. So I agree with Marco. We’re all good. Let’s continue to be a bastion of civility in this world, and in the immortal words of the respected barrister, Bill S. Preston, Esq.: “Be excellent to each other.”
Respectfully yours,
David Ojala
dojala@thorntontomasetti.com