President Harry S. Truman, it is often said, was in the habit of writing fiery missives to colleagues or rivals and then stashing them away in his desk drawer for a day or two. Many of his most vitriolic messages, including one well-known and notorious letter to his wife Bess, were never mailed.
After this self-imposed cooling-off period Truman, if still miffed, would mail the letter, but if his angry edge had been tempered either by reason or time the president would start over or discard the original.
Truman was also known to keep particularly edgy, painful or mean-spirited letters from others for long periods before responding – perhaps for the same reason.
One letter from a father whose son was killed in the Korean War included the dead soldier’s posthumously-awarded Purple Heart. That letter stayed in the desk for the remainder of Truman’s presidency, a grievous reminder of the emotional costs the war inflicted on thousands of families.
In his letters never-sent, Truman, well-known as “give ’em hell Harry,” exhibited remarkable degrees of wisdom and constraint – qualities perhaps lost forever in the era of instant messaging and e-mail.
Many private organizations, including the Sun Journal, have policies governing the use of company e-mail, but too many local governments in Maine, including those in Lewiston and Auburn, have no guidelines for how public officials should use electronic mail in the conduct of official business.
They should.
Maine law requires that all written communications, be they electronic or scribbled on the back of napkin, between public officials in the pursuit of their duties are public information, barring a few key exceptions.
Among other things, the Sun Journal’s e-mail policy warns, “A good rule is to assume anything you send in an electronic format may eventually go well beyond your intended contact or audience.”
This problem, and others – from the unintended disclosure of personal information to identity theft to the rough and rude edges of a message devoid of inflection – the sheer volume and misinterpreted tone of voice are among the pitfalls that accompany the convenience of fast and easy communication.
Even the most innocuously-intended message can be seen as insulting, and entire books aimed at re-civilizing professional communication in the era of the Internet and instant messaging have been written on the matter.
A sampling of e-mail messages between elected officials in Lewiston and Auburn is proof positive that misguided messages, or ones that haven’t been given the benefit of a proper Truman-style, desk drawer seasoning, will at best be embarrassing and at worst a wedge making continued civil communications increasingly unlikely.
All local governments should consider carefully the use of e-mail in the conduct of the public’s business, as nearly every message sent in this manner is public record and open to scrutiny. No one in government should be sending e-mails discussing public business, since that slams the door on public access, but if public officials insist on communicating this way, the civil thing to do is to follow Truman’s lead and wait, if not a day, at least a few hours before they hit that “send” button.
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