Resigned to My Fate

A word that has come up in my life far too many times in the past year is “resign”.

(No, not in the context of President Bush.  Sorry to get your hopes up.)

Rather, it has shown up with organizations I am involved in, being used by members of those groups — often by officers of those groups.  Sometimes that has been to slam the door behind them as they storm away, pissed off over some misunderstanding that they didn’t try to resolve in any other way.  Other times, it has been to force a personal agenda: “If things don’t happen the way I want them to, I’ll resign.”

Regardless of how offended the person is, or whether the agenda involves a deeply held moral conviction or is merely some petty spat, resignation is a pretty serious deal.  It is an extreme action, what should be a final one.  Or it should be, in my view.  I fear that our society’s focus on extremes have blunted the effect and thus the value of the action; what was once unpalatable becomes routine.

Using resignation as anything but a last-resort action, something done only when all other possible avenues have been tried (and failed to produce the desired results) is a brutal thing.  Bandying it around lightly, using it as a a first line of action, is reckless and even childish.  Having an officer of an organization use it as a threat to get an agenda enacted is particularly bad, in my opinion, certainly not the action of a responsible community leader.

I’ve come awfully close to responding “Then go ahead and resign.  If you can’t find any other option — if you won’t even try — then we’re probably better off without you.”  I haven’t said anything like that yet, since I would undoubtedly lose a friend by doing so, but I’ve come damn close.  I may not hold back the next time.