I suddenly find myself routinely wearing a suit to work every day for the first time in my life.  It feels strange.  So very, very strange.  As a soldier, I’ve spent the better part of my life wearing military fatigues; oversized, over-pocketed, overly earthtone, man-jammies . . . and I miss them terribly.  I have to believe I’m not alone in this.

I’ve heard since I was a kid that “clothes make the man” and I always accepted the conventional meaning of this phrase as relating to the quality of clothing worn.  Now, though, I find that I actually feel differently about myself on the rare occasion that I get to wear my beloved fatigues than I do when I’m in a suit.  Simply put, I feel more like “me” in fatigues, and this makes me wonder if that axiom has a more universal meaning. 

Centurions in the ancient Roman Army wore helmets with transverse crests.  Everyone else wore crests front to back, but these key leaders wore them ear to ear.  It set them apart, and their appearance on any given scene inspired a certain response.  That minor accoutrement symbolized order, it represented discipline, in short, it represented Rome itself.  Isn’t this the reason we put our police men and women in uniforms, to elicit that same degree of reverence and, for those with criminal intent, fear?  Isn’t this why priests and ministers of most religions wear distinctive garb?  For that matter, isn’t this why flight attendants wear uniforms, to instill a sense of authority and thereby facilitate order?

Clothes make a statement to the world, whether we like it or not, but the same clothes do not make the same statement to every observer.  The flood victim along the Mississippi River would likely think very differently of an approaching individual clad in the camouflage pattern of the U.S. Army than, say, a Somali pirate.  Same clothes, same individual within, but a very different perception nonetheless.  That perception is, as with so many other things, shaped by our experiences, but it is real nonetheless . . . at least real to the perceiver. 

Perception is a funny thing, and is affected by so many different factors that trying to apply a scientific analysis to the makeup of individual perception is likely an impossible task.  I think we’ll need to know an awful lot more about how our brains work to ever figure out the complex algorithm that dictates which of our experiences contribute to our perception and which do not.  To just assume that all our experiences contribute equally is certainly an erroneous assumption and it’s likely you can think of specific incidents in your past that bear that out.  As for me, I was bitten by a large German Shepherd when I was about six years old, and yet to this very day I love all dogs.  If all experiences contributed equally you’d assume I’d hate or at least fear large canines, but that simply isn’t the case.

As well, we assume nowadays that perception is reality, an axiom that has taken on new meaning in the information age, yet this oversimplifies a much more complex problem.  Namely, if we acknowledge that everyone’s perception of the same image can be different, can we accept that there is, then, more than one reality?  That’s a stretch, perhaps, but one that needs to be considered. 

If our reality is based solely upon our perceptions, we piece together for ourselves a reality independent of those around us.  So what?  Don’t see this as a problem?  Isn’t this fracturing of realities what allows individuals to construct for themselves such a vengeful, disparate view of the world around them that they can commit the most egregious of atrocities against their fellow humans.  If my perception is that (fill in the blank) people are all (fill in the blank), then my reality—really my view of reality—reflects that perception . . . or misperception, because let’s face it, we all make mistakes, right?  In my suit I may look like an investment banker (albeit one with REALLY short hair), but I most certainly am not, and you shouldn’t come to me seeking investment advice!  Regardless, we all act in accordance with how we view the reality around us, whether or not that view is accurate. 

This should make us question our perceptions of what we see and hear.  It should cause us to doubt our senses and focus on other means of acquiring knowledge.  Because our senses can be fooled, can’t they?  With remarkable ease, it seems.  Ever seen a street magician?  Do you still believe the quarter came from your ear?  Do you still sleep on your side hoping more will fall out at night?  Of course not! (I hope!!)  Our senses are just too easy to fool, and so, if we rely upon them exclusively to craft our view of reality, we’re setting ourselves up to be deceived.  Begging for it, in fact! 

So what choice do we have?  How do we take our perceptions and use them in a way that is more useful, a part of, but not all of, what determines our own personal view of reality?  Simply put, we study.  We learn what others think.  We follow the discourse of sometimes hundreds or thousands of years as a means to balance our personal perceptions with those of other folks around the world in similar circumstances.  In this way we can place our own perceptions in context and better understand what it is we see, hear, smell, taste, and feel.  I won’t here again extol the virtues of the study of history in gaining this wider perspective, but, well, there it is, isn’t it?

So, once again I find myself advocating education as the solution to the world’s most pressing contemporary problems.  This is, perhaps, ironic for those of you familiar with my early academic background, nonetheless, the gaping holes in our knowledge of the world can be filled, and can add context, indeed clarity, to our perceptions.  If we are to respond effectively to the wide range of threats to ourselves, our nation, and our future, we’ve got to get better at seeing the world as it is—not as we fear it might be.  We’ve got to spend less time trusting what we hear from celebrities or see on the news (aka-someone else’s perception) and actually learn about the people that cohabitate this world of ours.  The information’s out there, and more readily available than at any other time in the history of mankind.  Don’t believe me?  There’s this really cool thing I discovered recently called “Google” . . .

And so it is, the uncomfortable-looking guy in the suit dares you to challenge your own perceptions and take a step toward a wider, more informed world view.  You’ll be glad you did, and you might just be surprised at what you learn along the way. 

Now, if you'll please excuse me, I need to go get my suit ready for tomorrow morning . . .

M. G. Haynes