Terrorist Tech-Comms

*This article was written for my regular slot in Communicator but didn’t make it to print as it made a copy-editor “uncomfortable” (you have been warned!)

Do you remember Guerrilla Gardening? The alliterative environmental resistance movement that swept some of our inner cities a few years ago and saw people improving our urban spaces using tactics that would have been quite de rigueur for the French resistance? Well, maybe the same thing would be possible for the world of technical communication? Of course, if we’re going to borrow combative methods and retain the alliteration, terrorism becomes our playbook of choice.

Modern global terrorism (as opposed to the localised forms experienced on and off since the word was coined in the 17th century) offers nearly as many lessons as The Art of War, with the added advantage that we don’t need to read between the lines to work out how we’re expected to add in modern technology… our source materials are bang up to date (pardon the pun).

So what makes an effective terrorist? I suppose there are four factors that can be readily related to the world of technical communication.

Ideology and identity

Belief in an ideology is critical to the terrorist, and the ability to identify with others who espouse the same beliefs (although group membership is less important, some operate alone despite identifying with a particular group). Most technical communicators already fit this box (especially those who’ve joined something like the ISTC). We think of ourselves as technical communicators rather than just ‘people who write technical documents for money’. I’d pay attention to how someone describes themselves if recruiting for a mid-senior level position as they will be the source of indoctrination for others.

Part of the civilian population

Unless they’re posing for promotional photography, terrorists don’t wear a uniform. This cowardly unwillingness to paint targets on themselves is actually very useful when it comes to doing their job. Is that bloke digging next to the road to fix a broken sewage pipe, or plant a bomb? Who knows? But before it goes bang, he’ll have stopped for a coffee, changed his hat and be just another rushed commuter making a quick call to check his voicemail.
Similarly, a good technical communicator should blend into the team they’re supporting so that they’re in on all the conversations and able to gather the information they need to produce their content without wearing a target and getting in peoples’ faces. There should be trust involved in establishing the symbiotic relationship that technical communicators need with SMEs (subject matter experts) in order to get the job done.

Statement pieces

I’m not suggesting any of you blow up a building, kidnap an SME or imprison someone from a rival firm in a cage. However, I am suggesting that your products need to have a bit of something that makes them stand out whilst being identifiable to both you and your organisation. This can be done with logos and graphic design (see the black flag of ISIS), a style guide that’s both comprehensive and adventurous, and by getting the message out there through as many mediums as possible (there are many books still to be written on the ground-breaking ways modern criminal and terrorist organisations use social media and multi-platform multi-media messaging). It’s not always easy when you’ve been commissioned to write ‘a manual’, but clients and firms are usually comfortable with the idea of training materials running parallel to bundled documentation, and I’ve a couple at the moment who are really keen to use screen capture video as a way to reach an English-as-a-Second-Language client base.

Easily replaceable

In any organisation, aside from a few innovators and intellectual property holders, most people are replaceable. In a terrorist organisation, where a fair percentage at all levels of the organisation are being blown up on a regular basis (by themselves or their competition) this is doubly true.
I’ve worked with prescient clients who’ve brought me in because a (or the) SME is retiring and they need to capture and distil that person’s experience into a manual for the team he’s leaving behind. But I’ve also found myself in a firm when ‘the knowledge’ has already left and an expensive and time consuming reorganisation has become necessary. In both of these situations, I’m the agent of continuity.
If I have a pet hate, it’s being faced with a set of documentation and products where everyone, including the technical author, has been doing their own thing. It’s not a good way to work. I’d like to think that an equivalently qualified and skilled person could pick up where I’d left off should something untoward happen. Being consistent shouldn’t be that hard as modern technical communications software uses styles to control appearance and tags to indicate purpose, and our profession is filled with reasonably standard ways of working. Be mindful that if we’re responsible for continuity, accidents befalling us shouldn’t affect our replacement.

I suppose this goes to show that for the true professional, who’s always willing to learn, there are lessons tucked away in even the darkest corners of humanity.

Andrew

Hail to the Chief!

I’ve been away with the Army Reserve for a couple of weeks, and it seems that things have been moving quite rapidly whilst I’ve been gone. Firstly there’s the start of Alison’s tenure as President of the Institute of Scientific and Technical Communicators. This is a voluntary position that Alison will hold for a few years as she juggles Clearly Stated with providing leadership and direction to the wider profession. Her first official engagement after becoming president at TCUK14 was an appearance on Radio 3’s The Verb where she talks about the importance of good technical communication in an ever changing world. The show is entertaining as Alison shares the floor with both a comedian and a poet in an exploratory discussion.

Now it would be nice to spill the beans about some of Alison’s plans for world domination the development of technical communication in the UK, but that would probably sit best in other forums (like her inaugural presidential article in Communicator) but it’s nice having a famous mum!

Andrew

Professional Memberships

I know I’ve been away from the blog again, as I’ve been busy. This hasn’t just been work (although that’s part of it), but in a wider professional sense. In recent months I’ve stepped up to full membership of the ISTC, and become a Fellow of ITOL.

Today’s blog post can be read from a few distinct perspectives. Perhaps you’re a recent graduate wondering what all those extra post-nominals you see on business cards are for, or maybe you’re a peer thinking about joining or staying in a professional organisation. Then again you could be involved in running a professional body in some way, and you want to know what your members think. You’ll have to read between the lines a little bit – and this is very much my perspective – but I’m sure you’ll find something here of use.

It was tempting to create a series of tables and infographic you to death at this point in an attempt to compare various types of qualifications and professional bodies... but I’m afraid that if you want an answer to “what is chartered status?” or “what is a regulated profession?” you’ll have to head elsewhere. It suffices to say that the professional bodies I’m thinking of are those like the ISTC and ITOL where there is no qualification-based route to entry, and no statutory requirement to be a member (which means the same article written by a surveyor or surgeon about their professional memberships will reach somewhat different conclusions). Here are some of the things that you get – or don’t get – as a member of a professional body.

Validation

When you put in for membership of a professional body, you are scrutinised by a committee of Fellows (note the capital F) who are at the top of their profession. At the very least they’ll look at your CV and qualifications, and possibly a few samples of your work... they may also seek references. When they decide that you’re eligible for Membership, this means that you’re competent in the field, and when they opt to make you a Fellow, they’re acknowledging – for the record – that you’re at their level. For example, the team who decided to make me a Fellow of ITOL decided that I’m as capable a trainer and training consultant as they are – although we may train and consult in quite different specialist fields.

Confidence

With the status comes a bit of a confidence boost. I wouldn’t say that I've become a better trainer or communicator solely because of my memberships, but the validation has made me more confident. As a training planner, I’d occasionally run into situations where my plans were questioned and I was guilty of backing down and delivering a weaker solution as a result... but I now feel more resistant to those pressures.

Further Growth

Once you’re in a professional body, there’s the opportunity for further growth and development as part of that group. Those of you who keep up with my output will know that I regularly write for Communicator, and this quarter I’ve used my involvement with the journal to get to interview one of my ‘heroes’ (this blog is spoiler free, so you’ll have to read Communicator to find out who this is). I’ve spoken at TCUK and roped one of my favourite journalists into being the keynote at last year’s conference – something I was sadly unable to capitalise on when it came to wrangling a writing gig!

Jobs Contacts

While we’re on the subject of failing to capitalise on things, professional membership isn’t a route to getting a job (unless you happen to be in a regulated profession or require chartered status). Professional membership is a route to building your contacts and meeting the people who can guide you as your career develops, but unless you’re very lucky they’re not going to offer you a job. Similarly, unless you’re dealing with a company already very aware of the organisation, you’re unlikely to find membership as part of a job description... but you can still talk about it at interview as an example of how you’ve validated your professional practice, developed confidence and kept up to date.

So, I’ve become more “active as a professional”, which should hopefully lead to bigger and better things and I’ve learnt a little bit about professional bodies as a result. It’s good – in a warm and fuzzy way – to know that my work as a trainer and communicator (and indeed, trainer of communicators) is recognised and respected.

Andrew

Saving a life

It’s not every day that something potentially life-changing happens. A few days ago, I’d been gone from work about 30 minutes when Alison got a 3-sentence phone call in which I identified myself, told her my location and instructed her to ‘come now’. When she arrived, I was shaking and covered quite liberally in blood (all of it belonging to someone else).

It had all started happily enough. I’d left work with the dog on her lead to go and collect the boy from nursery before heading home for whatever culinary delight was on the table. I was speaking to a potential client on the phone when an old lady in a wheelchair asked me if I’d call the police. As I hung up, I noticed that the children gathered around the old lady were scared of something. They asked me to ‘tell the police about the scary man near the swings’.

As someone else was able to make the call, I decided to wander a little closer towards the man as the children were obviously very frightened.

I must have been about 8 or 10 metres away from him when the side of one of the cars near him changed colour from white to too-fast-red. The guy stumbled a little then collapsed – and that was when I noticed the knife.

Finding the spot where that much bright, spurty blood had appeared from so quickly was vital, as it meant an arterial bleed... the kind that kills in minutes and seconds rather than sensible portions of hours and days. After taking his knife from him (in uniform you learn to disarm the casualty prior to treatment), I slid my hand up his sleeve to his upper arm. The blood was pulsing against my hand and no matter how hard I leant against the cut it wouldn’t stop. His jaw was slack, his eyes weren’t moving and his face was palid... but I knew he was still alive because of the flush-flush of blood against my palm.

By this time, an ambulance was on its way and a man asked if he could help. He took hold of my dog while I used her long canvas lead to wrap tightly around the arm until the bleeding slowed.

Sirens in the distance, then paramedics arrived to take over while two police officers arrive to do their bit with the knife, the public and any other fall-out. I can finally relax my grip after a really interesting bandage is applied that has a plastic cup fitted to one side, so that it places pressure into a puncture wound. Finally the guy’s on the stretcher, then in the ambulance being stabilised before the vehicle growls away with all the lights flashing.

The street is a mess. I realise just how much blood he’d lost...and how much of that had soaked into my clothes and skin. I gave my details to the officer, collected my dog, got into Alison’s waiting car and went – covered in blood and shaking – to collect the boy from his nursery.

Later the phone rings, and it’s the police to let me know that the man was rushed straight into surgery. Stopping – or at least slowing – the bleeding at the scene is probably what kept him alive.

I’m still jittery when I think about it, but I won that one. I’m a first aid instructor and an army reservist... but very little prepares you to deal with a casualty who’s inflicted such a horrid injury on themselves and is conflicted over whether they want to be saved.

I know this isn’t really a tech-comms posting, but somewhere I had encountered instructional materials that prepared me to do what I did today. They’d have been written by some long-dead scout master or an army surgeon, and they are memorable enough that when everything’s going crazy, the content comes to mind. Would your materials survive the ‘blood everywhere’ recall test?

Andrew