This is something I sought to illuminate in one of those essays that I regard as dealing with a more enduring, as opposed to merely timely, truth: "How Ruling Powers Distort Morality So that it Does Not Restrain Them," which can be found at www.nonesoblind.org/blog/?p=31
And then there's the dark side of the wounded creature that plays into all this. Philip calls attention to the wound:
The super-abundance of DVDs, of fashionable clothing, of processed food, of cars, and comfortable furnishings that are all part of this wealthy nation may do little to lessen the sting of the profound betrayal of our most basic emotional needs by those who profess to love us. The political freedoms and the material wealth we Americans enjoy are--plausibly--cold comfort for a familial love that has been travestied. An empty belly and a shivering body are hard to take--to say nothing of war and social upheaval--but they are simply more comprehensible to our natures, and they do less to provoke a desire for revenge upon the wider world than when the tears of our childhood are met with a sharp slap to the face.
And so we can end up with people who have developed a character of righteousness wrapped around a core of such wounds, along with the anger and lust for revenge that can come from being abuse.
This is the vulnerability I described in my essay, "Here's the puzzle: How is it that many remarkably decent people can support leaders who are remarkable precisely for their lack of such decency?" which can be found at http://www.nonesoblind.org/blog/?p=43
And this is how the power systems of civilization can fuel and empower themselves by means of the very injuries they inflict on their members. Thus does patriotism become, through the play of such patterns of brokenness, the phenomenon described by the Swiss sociologist, Denis de Rougemont:
What nobody would dare say of his me, he has the sacred duty of saying for his us.
And we come full circle, tracing the connection Philip suggested in that opening quote: from abusive family to fascism.
Andrew Bard Schmookler's website www.nonesoblind.org is devoted to understanding the roots of America's present moral crisis and the means by which the urgent challenge of this dangerous moment can be met. Dr. Schmookler is also the author of such books as The Parable of the Tribes: The Problem of Power in Social Evolution (SUNY Press) and Debating the Good Society: A Quest to Bridge America's Moral Divide (M.I.T. Press). He also conducts regular talk-radio conversations in both red and blue states.
...when parents became elderly and incapacitated and asked for help from the children they had abused, only to find that such help was not forthcoming.
One of the many reasons for the Golden Rule is that what comes around, goes around. Those you abuse when they are weak and helpless, may someday be the ones in power when you find yourself weak and helpless. And they are likely to treat you no differently than you treated them when the situation was reversed.
This holds true on a national scale as well. By withdrawing from the Geneva Convention and the Conventions Against Torture, we expose our own troops to inhumane treatment should they be captured. And by committing war crimes, we will have few friends and allies should similar war crimes be committed against us someday. Don't think it isn't possible. Our troops are overextended, our nation is deeply in debt, the value of the dollar is falling, and an economic collapse could leave us in a position where we would be extremely vulnerable.
Patriarchal religions, nations, and families are similar to compulsive criminals who commit crimes knowing full well that they may be caught and have to pay the price, but continue to do what they're doing anyway. Maybe they will get away with it forever. Some criminals are never caught. Most abusive parents are never punished. Many fascist tyrants have lived to a ripe old age without being tried for their war crimes. And many empires have lasted longer than ours is likely to.
Despite all the pain, suffering, and agony they cause others, the diagnostic characteristic of abusers is that, even if they have been abused themselves, they cannot put themselves in another's shoes. They lack empathy. They are incapable, in other words, of doing unto others as they would have others do unto them because they cannot identify with others. Others are always a label like, "the kids," "the immigrants," "the enemy," or "the terrorists." They don't see people like themselves, individuals who are entitled to human rights and worthy of respect, they see only the differences between people, like age, sex, religion, ethnicity, orientation, etc., and they believe that due to those differences, they don't have to treat others like themselves because others aren't like them at all.
We are born with empathy for others. Infants will cry in sympathy when they hear another infant cry. But patriarchy soon trains it out of us. We are immediately told which team we're on, given the proper uniform, and encouraged to compete with all other teams. And most people do, in family life and in business, in love and in war. The competitive model sees empathy was a weakness. The Golden Rule becomes bastardized into, "He who has the most gold, rules," or, "Do unto others -- first!"
The problem with the competitive model is that it entails constant conflict and has no mechanism for peace. And this year's winners may turn out to be next years losers. Death is a frequent occurrance at my nearby senior center. When somebody who was alway kind and courteous to others dies, you can feel the sadness of those who miss them. But when somebody who was always rude and arrogant dies, it is like a shadow has been lifted from us, and everyone is glad they're gone.
--Mark
by
Mark E. Smith (21 articles, 30 quicklinks, 100 diaries, 1325 comments)
on Friday, December 29, 2006 at 6:39:33 PM
Very good article, on a subject, too infrequently discussed
Having been born and raised in the Deep South, Bible belt, and coming of political age in the 60s, I have seen both sides of the sexual morality coin, so to speak, as well as the morality or immorality of the exercising of political power, both micro and macro.
Please allow me to share a little of my own story as a way of contributing my 2 cents worth of opinion: Courage has never been my strong suit and I have always had to work at it. Fear has been my greatest demon, especially as an adult.
I remember being afraid a few things during my childhood, mostly of my mother, who was a bit bipolar, though never diagnosed in her lifetime, mainly because she avoided mental health professionals as if they carried the plague.
My father had no such temper and did not do outbursts, but, as with most families raising kids in the 50s, he wasn't around very much. He owned a business with his brother and they were quite successful for a couple of high school dropouts; they dropped out during the Great Depression, and went to work so that the family would not lose their modest home.
I was never afraid of my father, though I knew that once an indictment of one or the other, of my many misdeeds, was passed up to him for adjudication, there would be a sentence of some kind forthcoming and the sentence would be carried out in full; no appeal to a higher authority and no time off for good behavior. That was my father.
No, I did not fear my father. As a kid, though I would not have admitted it in a thousand years, at the time, I remember a felt sense of relief, along with teenage pissyness, of course, when Dad handed down my sentence.
I am now 58 years of age and my memory of my young years has always been excellent. It remains so at present, though, perhaps not for long.
I can say with all honesty that my father never handed down an unfair sentence and they usually taught me something, other than how it feels to be held accountable for my deeds. My father never laid a hand on me in anger, except for one time. Even then, he did not hit me, but grabbed my arm with enough force to send my school books, which I was carrying, most huffily, to my room, flying out of my hand and across the den. It was a non-injurious attitude adjustment.
Where most other things were concerned, I was fairly fearless, or so it seemed, mainly because I did not have sense enough to know that I should be afraid, I suspect. I loved speed (the kind you can experience on a bicycle), swimming, riding waves, diving and climbing, the higher the better, in a Pine Tree.
As a young child, the one thing that scared the living BeeJeebus out of me was a man named Brother Ike. He was the pastor of the local Baptist Church. Like many young families in the 50s, my parents decided, after I was of age, to attend church services, somewhere. I'm not sure I ever knew whose idea it was to attend the Baptist Church. All I know is that it was my mother who, finally, put a stop to it, probably, because of my obvious fear of Brother Ike and because she felt too much like a hypocrite to continue appearing at the Baptist Church.
Understandably enough, it was my mother, who exposed me to ideas that made me different from many of my peers and formed the foundation of my spirituality today, and tomorrow, as it, hopefully, continues to evolve.
Even though Mother could morph into a angry, out-of-control, bipolar tornado at a moments notice, she was far more wise than most of the people I knew, including Dad. She had her problems, which caused me problems, as well as quite a few other people who came into her sphere of influence, but there was an uncommon wisdom there as well, for which I will be forever grateful, because it included such topics as comparative religion and spirituality, archeology, anthropology and recent history, as well as lessons on racism, not preached, but acted upon, as best she could in 1950-70, Birmingham, Alabama.
My point, and I do have one, as Ellen would say, is this:
While we, human beings, are similar in so many ways, we are also quite different, in ways that matter very much, essential ways, not because our dis-similarities should be eradicated, but because, until we recognize we are all parts of a wonderfully Divine puzzle, we will not know and understand that which we must know and understand, first, before we know and understand anything else: Ourselves.
It is a foregone conclusion that no child should ever be physically or psychologically abused. It is is also a foregone conclusion that a majority of children have been and will be.
Abuse in childhood can have very different manifestations in the child who is abused. Scott Peck once wrote that Childhood is a nightmare. Truer words were never spoken.
If anything could bring about a real transformation of humankind, it would be the recognition and realization of our real diversity and the honoring of that diversity. It is not national, cultural, religious or, even, socio-economic, though those differences are certainly perceived by us all and are as real as anything else humankind can perceive.
The diversity of which I speak is far more profound and far more useful in working toward unity.
There is unity in diversity and vice versa.
Uniformity and conformity, at the expense of this profound diversity, are the greatest obstacles to unity and wholeness that we face.
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