Rule #1: Don’t be a dick
Comedy or Cruelty? The Human Cost of Humor
On a recent deployment, our camp rules boiled down to a simple, straightforward directive: “Don’t be a dick.” It reflected a fundamental concept we’re taught as kids, a PG-13 version of the “treat others as you wish to be treated” epithet often hailed as “The Golden Rule”.
This rule was far from an original creation; it became popularized as “Wheaton’s Law” after Wil Wheaton coined the phrase “Don’t be a dick” during his keynote address at the 2007 Penny Arcade Expo (PAX) in Seattle. Originally intended as a governing rule for interactions in online gaming, the rule spread among self-described “nerd” communities.
Since then, its adoption has become widespread across a range of applications from human resource management to punk-pop songs. The veteran-based disaster relief organization Team Rubicon adopted “Don’t be a dick” as their #1 rule (rule #2 is “Get shit done”). Bowling for Soup captured the intent of the rule in their 2017 song, “Don’t be a dick.” The phrase has even been referenced by psychologists including Mark Borg, who recently authored a book of the same title and describes the type of person we all know too well:
“The world is filled with jerks. Dicks are a special breed of jerk — they give offense to the world without a shred of awareness that they’re doing so, and deny they have a role when relationships go wrong.”
Yet, despite its simplicity, Rule #1 is routinely violated in the military (and likely many other work environments) by cruel and callous reactions to the most basic errors and shortcomings.
The military’s machismo culture incentivizes getting a laugh no matter the cost to others; public humiliation is not only the norm but touted as a form of “disciplining the dumb” out of junior subordinates. Somehow, this is believed to build bonds of brotherhood — you’ll hear it called many things: “dragging” or “trashing” or “shitting on” someone — whatever it’s called, the two-way slinging of insults often paradoxically forms and solidifies a friendship. Scathing comments cloaked in the form of jest, all in good fun… yet constant heckling has a tendency of causing inevitable (if invisible) wounds, and foster a fearful, hostile climate over time.
The worst leader I’ve ever had was an expert at “throwing shade” on others. Typically, his hostile remarks were aimed outside of the building, toward the external organizations and individuals with whom we often worked. He would happily smile and engage with people, then the second they were out of ear-shot would turn to our section and say “no way in hell I’m helping that shit-head.” At the time, I’d chuckle, appeasing his need for attention, but all the while wondering to myself whether he’d ever said similar things about me behind my back.
As time wore on I came to notice his comments more and more. Watched him blame his own mistakes and oversights on specific individuals on our team, whom he supervised. Observed, silently, as he’d pretend to shoot himself in the head with a finger-gun while on the phone with colleagues. Overheard him berating his own son on the phone. This man radiated negativity, but it wasn’t until our section chief left months early on a short notice PCS orders that I realized the degree to which one individual can become a tumor, effectively sucking the life out of a team.
He’d been in charge of the section for about ten days when he crossed a line I could no longer tolerate. We were running through a practice brief with some of our more junior members, who were clearly not as prepared as they should have been. Yet rather than providing candid feedback and setting a timeline for making corrections and conducting another dry-run, my boss unleashed a torrent of belittling comments.
He interrupted the briefer to sarcastically ask whether they knew how to spell certain basic words, if they’d ever used PowerPoint before, and “did you even research any of this?” He scoffed and chuckled under his breath and gave raised eyebrow looks to anyone in the room who would make eye contact. Then he conducted a game of “stump the dummy” more aggressive than I’d ever seen, even though I was certain he didn’t know the answers to half the questions himself. And to top it all off, he literally benched the young briefer (only three months out of tech school) in front of our entire team.
After the berating ended my boss stormed out of the room — no follow-up, no direction on how to fix the brief. He left right at 4:30 pm like he did every other day. Wanting to ease the trauma of the uncalled for annihilation, enough to scar any novice briefer for life — I pulled aside the analyst and his supervisor and told them “that wasn’t your best brief, but no one deserves to be treated like that. I know you know this stuff, and don’t worry, I’ve seen you do way better before. We’ll reattack tomorrow.” But was it enough to undo the experience they’d just endured? Most certainly not.
Leaders and supervisors are supposed to build up their teams, to educate and teach and mentor. They are supposed to set clear expectations and enforce them, but that never means tearing someone down in public — whether or not it is defended as “only a joke.” As my boss mocked the briefers’ many “uhms”, verbal miscues, and anxious hand motions, did the victim feel it was a joke? Or was he thinking, “I’m so embarrassed/ashamed” or “I never want to brief again” or “I suck at my job” or “I hate this place”?
In retrospect, I wish I’d stood up to my boss then and there, spoken up in some way to show my team that such unfair and hostile treatment was intolerable no matter the rank or position. To show them I cared most about their welfare, and that I was brave enough to intervene even if it meant my boss redirecting his fury towards me.
We have countless opportunities to stand up to injustices, both big and small. Sometimes that means going against the grain, or raising the unpopular opinion of “hey, that’s not actually funny.”
My boss was fired only a few weeks later. Turns out, when you routinely treat people like shit, tear your own team down, and talk smack behind people’s backs… no one wants to be around you, no one wants to work for you, and no one defends your claims that “I was just joking…”
I have a tendency to be sarcastic and to lean towards cynical humor. I’ve found that poking fun at one another, when lighthearted, can be a good way to establish common ground. That said, there is a clear line between shared jests among a few people and hostile, aggressive jokes aimed at casting negative attention on others. This is without a doubt, not the type of colleague or teammate I strive to be.
Being a good friend and a peer, much less a mentor or leader, should never be predicated on mocking, ridiculing or insulting. Even if in jest, these are the signs of a toxic team environment. For every time I’ve ever laughed at a witty, well-placed jab by a co-worker, I regret not taking a moment to consider being on the receiving end of the punchline. I regret not saying blankly, “that was rude” or addressing the comment or defending the victim. Not until you are under attack, made to feel incompetent or irrelevant, does it sink in the damage that simple words can invoke.
In those moments, maybe the #1 rule can also become the #1 defense when so-called jokes go too far — simply put, “don’t be a dick.”
