Monday, August 22, 2011

Integrity and Authenticity


Toastmasters International
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There are nuances to some words which are provocative when applied.  Integrity means whole, true, complete.  It means "adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character" (Dictionary.com). Integrity means honesty, but honesty in the sense of being true to oneself and one's beliefs.  In this context, it means being whole, undiminished and unblemished.  Synonym: congruent.


Authenticity means being "real," honest, true to oneself, uncontrived, natural.  These may seem quite similar in definition - and, in fact, do bear several characteristics in common.  Authenticity means presenting one's true self.  It means being genuine, sincere, not play-acting.

In the field and practice of public speaking, the strongest impact is made by a genuine presentation of oneself.  The content of the speech is almost irrelevant.  In any speech, the audience retains only a fraction of the information delivered; what the audience does remember is the experience, the impact, the impression the speaker imparted.  And it is here where authenticity is best demonstrated.

Toastmasters International is one of the best-known purveyor or public-speaking training.  As its name indicates, it is an international institution, and indeed, has millions of members.  Toastmasters is a venue where one learns various "tricks of the trade" in public speaking, such as tone and volume of voice, gestures, posture, how to write a speech with its three major components of an opening, a body and a close, how to evaluate other speakers with the so-called sandwich technique of compliment, areas that need improvement, and encouragement; a venue that discourages bad habits, such as crutch words and bridges, and instills good habits such as eye contact and adherence to prescribed timing.  But with all these admonitions, speakers-in-training frequently assume a robotic attitude, trying to follow prescribed rules, adhering to formulas, and in such predicament tend to come across as less than fully relaxed, genuine and authentic.

I am guilty as charged.  My first few speeches were racked with such nervousness, all I could feel were my trembling knees.  And the storm of butterflies in my belly.  And my dry mouth and flushed cheeks.  My voice shook mercilessly, almost to the point that I tripped over my tongue, and with my accent, that did not bode well.  I focused on my written outline and tried hard to stay on topic, having my words flow well, adhering to the message.  Hard as I tried, I could not move away from the lectern, but the only thing that moved away was my backside, with my hands still clutching the thing, white knuckles and all!  And of course, my eyes constantly darted to the timer's lights, wondering if I would say everything I had planned before my time was up, yet hoping against hope that my time would be up soon.  Did I remember to breathe?  I don't know.

Then I came upon one of the advanced manuals' speeches, "The Coach," and as I read the information regarding that speech, something resonated within me and harkened back to my years studying psychology in college.  I did not agree with what the manual said.  I had other experiences, other ideas.  But how do I follow the rules, follow the guidelines in the manual, adhere to the timing, drop the ah's, watch my vocal variety, ground the butterflies, relax my knees and remember to breathe, while crafting a speech around a subject I disagreed with in my gut? It finally came to me: This is a game.  Nothing dire is going to happen if I fail.  There is no passing or failing grade; no goal to attain; no one to impress.  If I disagreed with the manual, why not just say so?  What horrible things could possibly happen?  So I went into my own memory banks, my own background in psychology and communication and planned my presentation.  I wrote down very little; having made the decision to walk out on the skinny branches and defy the manual, I gave up the need to follow a formula.  I determined to deliver my talk from my heart.  I resolved to ignore all convention and say as many ah's as came to me; allow the butterflies free flight; let my knees melt to the floor -- and had a stiff whiskey before the "show."

The opening of my speech followed exactly how I felt about the manual's guidelines: "I disagree with the manual," I announced.  I now proceeded to support my position, summarizing briefly the manual's guidelines, and explaining why I disagreed with them, and what I would do differently.  I had recruited a member of the group to play act with me, but did not rehearse anything with him.  When I invited him to join me at the lectern, I spontaneously asked him to deliver the opening of his last speech, which he did.  That was the perfect opportunity for coaching, and coaching I did.  After he delivered his opening the third time, we both received a standing ovation.

I might have enjoyed the moment even more had I been totally sober, but a victory is a victory, and lo these many years later, I remember it all.  And the success I enjoyed was the result of speaking my beliefs, speaking from the heart, speaking authentically, not worrying about formulas, and being true to myself.

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