Cookie Seeking.
Approval matters to me. External validation of my worth is important to me. Being social and fitting in matter to me. Contributing in a constructive way; participating in generally-making-things-better matters to me. It stems from insecurity (Do people really like me?), and it stems from conceit (I have valuable ideas people should pay attention to!).
I was told recently that my post about What we Teach Men was cookie-seeking. It’s not actually a term I had heard before, but I take it to mean that I was shallowly trying to gain the approval of people. Well, guilty as charged. I don’t pose at any special insight or profundity. And I freely admit: I seek the approval of people whom I respect. Having thoughtful people tell me that they agree with me or that I have done well is important to me. It’s how I know that I’m contributing meaningfully. If the people I respect tell me I’m getting it wrong, I have to reevaluate and think more carefully.
There was (at least one) something I got wrong in that post. Michael Tomasson pointed it out to me (and I may still get his point wrong…). When I wrote, “It’s not about rules”, I over-simplified. Of course there need to be rules for acceptable conduct. And of course people need to be held accountable to them. I hadn’t intended to suggest otherwise, but I also didn’t make it explicit. My aspiration, in writing the post, was to describe what I believe is a much-needed mentorship relationship between established and younger men, which allows us to use our strengths to help improve the working environment. But it also needs to be clear – regardless of intent – there are acceptable and unacceptable types of interactions, and those rules should exist and be enforced, with mechanisms for addressing transgressions.
I am at peace with my cookie-seeking. Some describe the lofty path of railing against all, ruggedly lonesome, as an ideal. The pioneers, who don’t care what anyone thinks and are going to cut their own path regardless of obstacles, are held up as a noble imago. And surely, we need people like that. But that is not the role I’ve chosen for myself. I desire social approval. Camaraderie. Social networks are crucial in my life.
Social networks of varying types are utterly necessary for me. The social network of AA has saved my life. The social network on twitter has inspired my academic pursuits, and my career ambitions. Family, university, community. These things support me in ways that I frequently don’t have the strength to muster on my own. And I try, often failing, to contribute back to those social systems. By helping others to find sobriety. By sharing ideas that I hope find purchase in the academic world, and the meta-academic world.
Yes, dear reader, I am seeking your approval. Because I value the opinions of the people I respect. I am conceited, absolutely. But I am not so conceited as to think that my ideas cannot be refined by the application of the fire of peer-review. I do hope that people find something of value here. And I hope that if what they find here is wrong, that they’ll tell me why they think so. Because thoughtful engagement and collaborative debate helps me feel like I contribute better. And that makes me feel useful. And I like me when I’m useful.
So. Cookies please. I’m not too proud to admit I like them.
Infactorium 
The problem with cookie seeking is that it often goes like this:
1. Do Good Thing
2. Await cookie
3. Confused when no cookie appears
4. WTF WHERE’S MY COOKIE I AM JUST TRYING TO DO GOOD THING HERE FINE I’M NEVER DOING GOOD THING AGAIN IF NOBODY EVEN CARES
Oh sure. If the cookie becomes the only thing that matters, then that’s probably bad.
Calling someone out as a cookie-seeker is not productive. One of my favorite things about reading this and other blogs is to understand the viewpoints of people who don’t always think like me, which inevitably means we will disagree at some point.
We’re all human, and most of us, at least in this community, seek to learn from (and teach) each other.
I wasn’t under the impression that “productive” was of primary importance at the time. But I try to take insight even from destructive criticism.
I enjoyed the post, and the discussion that followed it. There is no point in debate if the ideal os for everyone to form their opinions in a vacuum and then stick to them no matter what others may say. Cookie haters can simply not join the conversation.
It’s not up to me to try to figure out your motives. You know what they are. I don’t like pointing fingers at others by taking their inventory. Better to take my own and figure out my own motives. I enjoy reading your posts. I learn something here. That’s a good thing.
I like your blog and I approve of it.
I agree that if we just did this for ourselves, there would be no point. At least that is the way I feel. I have a pretty leather bound journal if I just want to write for myself. There is no risk in that. If I want to communicate, however, there is risk, and, I would hope, some sort of reward.