In his article, “The moral naturalists” (explanations for lower case letters to come), David Brooks points to research that points to a sense of right and wrong that we are born with and learn very early. Even “lower” animals such as rats and monkeys learn to cooperate. It seems that we have “natural receptors that help us recognize fairness and cruelty,” and we show preferences for goodness and fairness from infancy. Social norms, evidently, “fall upon prepared ground. We come equipped to learn fairness and other virtues.” Those who behave morally seem to do it because they are “more sensitive to other people’s points of view” and better at “anticipating and reading other people’s pain.” What researchers seem to be identifying as a moral sense is one that values such virtues as cohesion, cooperation, and empathy. However, Brooks complains that researchers’ perspective on morality seems to be “lower case” and that it might not satisfy “those who want their morality to be awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great.”
I find myself asking the following questions in response: If morality is inborn and starts so early, what happens along the way that people let go of it and allow themselves to choose such immoral behaviors? What do we have to do to encourage people to continue caring about the group, about other people’s pain, about respect and empathy and responsibility and courage (those lower case virtues)? Why are we seeing so many fall from grace? Fall from honesty and integrity? Right into our prisons. When will people understand that a lack of trust is the greatest risk to our society, to our psychological wellness, to our safety, and to our financial well being?
Personally, it is the “awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great” that motivates me. Without a powerful faith, my fears would overwhelm me and persuade me to take the easy, safe, and perhaps less than honest or kind path. That faith keeps me moving along the path toward greater character, remedying my faults, and striving for what’s optimal (believing that it is only possible with help from Beyond). Many of the people that I collaborate with on character issues also find their motivation in the “awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great.” So I ask the question – must we have “the awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great” to move us out of our moral depravity? Does it take something grand and holy to persuade us, to enable us to live differently?
If so, then the approach I have been using in the Eriksen Institute for Ethics is likely to fail. That is, I figured, given the clear relationships between our economic recession and the unethical behavior of mortgage and financial institutions, and given the clear relationships between long term profitability and developing an organizational culture centered on aspirational values, that businesses and other organizations would be hopping right in line to fully infuse aspirational values from top to bottom. I figured that because of the clear ethical needs in our society, we could, without calling on the “awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great,” feel justified in advocating for business ethics. We could justify our demands or expectations that businesses and corporations live according to a basic set of aspirational values without having a discussion of religion or faith or. . . you get my drift.
And yet, we seem to be a people who respond to crisis. We seem to need it to break through our inertia. If Haiti and the Gulf oil spill and a war in the middle east and an economic crisis can’t get organizations to put values first, then perhaps we really do need the “awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great” to empower our efforts. However, I personally have found that when I daily think the “lower case” morality, how to be more loving or kind or trusting or responsible, I feel less defensive and more willing to grow and work on myself. I believe that, despite a life time of the “awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great,” I am a better person from having, for a few short years, invested in “lower case” morality. Do we need to require people to take the larger plunge into the “awesome, formidable, transcendent, or great?” Or might they be more willing to begin with the smaller steps, with the “lower case?”
Showing posts with label economic crisis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label economic crisis. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Path Out of Upheaval (July 2009)
Not a day goes by these days when I don't awaken to reports on NPR of the numbers of lives and businesses and communities in upheaval due to the economic crisis. Whether loss of jobs, loss of homes, loss of retirement, or loss of companies, a large number of us are struggling to survive, and during the struggle, having to figure out how our lives will transform over the next few years. It helps to know that we are not alone, that the vast majority of us are not to blame. It helps to know that recessions turn around. It helps to know that, because so many people are being affected, we can commiserate, talk more openly with one another, and in doing so, build and experience a sense of community that may sometimes have been lacking before. And part of that community seems to be an increase in the degree to which people are reaching out to and caring for others in need, in the sense that we are all in this together and that we need to help one another, in the sense that we are all connected and that what one person does can't help but trickle out and down to the rest of the community. I see more people taking action politically and in service to make things better in our world.
While reading recently, I was introduced to some theological concepts expressed in Ronald Rolheiser's book, The Holy Longing, that I find pertinent to our current turmoil. I realize that not everyone will be familiar with or committed to Christian concepts, but bear with me for a moment while I share what has most moved me. Rolheiser speaks of the hope of the Pascal Mystery (that is, the series of events surrounding Christ's death and resurrection) for our lives in a way that I have found personally relevant, but think could be relevant to others and to our community at large as well. The series of events are Good Friday (when Christ dies on the cross), Easter Sunday (when He rises to new life on Earth), a 40 day period before the Ascension (when He rises to heaven), and the Pentecost (when the Holy Spirit is received by his disciples). Now I realize that these are esoteric ideas to those who don't share this faith, but stick with me for a moment.
Rolheiser parallels what are fundamental Christian events to the patterns of our lives in order to create hope. For instance, he points to the shock to our system of a "death" experience, whether loss of a home, a job, a marriage, a child, etc. (Good Friday). Sometime after that death experience - it may take a while -- we may have a sense of "rising" to a new life - some sense of meaning that our lives are to have, some calling that has been shaken loose by the loss, some reevaluation of what is really important in our lives (Easter). Consider, for example, the long effort to get a mandatory seat belt law passed in Florida by a man whose daughter died as a result of not wearing a seat belt. Consider the passion with which the founder of Mother's Against Drunk Driving developed her organization after her child was killed by a drunk driver. Each of these "callings" arose from tremendous personal tragedy.
But even if we have felt called to a new life, there may be a long period of time (the 40 days) in which we are living with both the death and the new life - We are experiencing the profound sense of loss, the wish to return to our previous life, the wish to all that we have been forced to leave behind. But we are also experiencing the hope of a new life, the hope generated by the new sense of meaning and call. We may wonder how long this struggle will last, the struggle to let go of what's past and to fully embrace what is to come. We may wonder why we continue to feel depressed or sad when the promise of something better is in front of us. We may not truly want to let go. We may have no clarity about the process involved in actually getting to that new life. And some friends and family members may urge us to let go and move on before we are truly ready, before we have fully grieved the loss.
At some point, however, we reach the time for embracing the new life. And Rolheiser parallels this to the Ascension - That is, we need to let the old go, allow it rise and die (at least in some form) in order to fully receive the spirit of the new life to come (Pentacost).
I find myself reassured by this sense of a life and death cycle. It feels hopeful, promising. It gives the sense that we all have to go through this sort of a cycle when we experience a loss. No one escapes experiencing losses. But there is the promise of something better at the end of the cycle that can encourage us to fully embrace the cycle.
It is holding onto the notion of this cycle that offers us a sense of promise about our country's (well, world's actually) current condition. Many people are losing. Many other people are reaching out to help them. Hope comes from knowing that "this too shall pass," from many people being in the same boat, and from focusing our blame externally rather than toward ourselves. Obama and other leaders have made bold sweeping promises about the government's determination to raise people from the holes that they have been dropped into, to a place of partial government help (unemployment compensation increases, for example) while what is to come is "created," and to give all of us time to discover what that better will be.
We need to do what's necessary to recognize the "death" or loss for what it is: painful, awful, hurtful, but only the first step in the cycle. We need to call out for guidance and vision about where we need to go and have the hope that it will come. We need to surround ourselves with supportive people or groups to hold us while we are in the waiting period, experiencing both the loss and the hope in an alternating pattern. And eventually we will need to give up the anger and hurt and pain, allow it rise and move away. When we have learned all we can from it and let it go, we will be able to fully receive the "spirit" of the new life, fully embrace a hopeful future. It will no doubt look different than we ever imagined.
In the picture as Rolheiser describes it, I find hope. I find encouragement to be patient with myself through the waiting period of not knowing where my path may lead. I find promise that new life will come. It seems to me that if we have faith that the future does indeed hold a "new life" for us, then we can allow ourselves to be here, now, where we need to be. We can embrace both the pain and the promise. We can be patient with ourselves and with others. In the letting go are both sadness and gentleness, hurt and patience, trust in ourselves, others, and the universe at large. In fact, we can celebrate the talent of the many working together to raise ourselves out of the mire in which we have found ourselves.
So whether it is the personal loss of a home or job or family member, or the group loss of a pastor or teacher or leader, or the company loss of assets or clients or the CEO, we have choices. We can choose fear and anger and reactivity which may energize us to take needed action. But when we lose energy and feel depressed, or sad, or lose hope, we may also need promise and vision and call to hold onto. We may need to embrace both our attachments to what we have lost, and our hope for what is to come. And we will need cojourneyers along the way to hold out a hand and remind us of who we are, what we are called to do, what the promise is. Eventually, we must make the choice to allow our loss to rise and move away so that we can receive the spirit of our new life. But while we await that point, perhaps it helps to know that a waiting period is expectable, and normal, and will not go on forever.
While reading recently, I was introduced to some theological concepts expressed in Ronald Rolheiser's book, The Holy Longing, that I find pertinent to our current turmoil. I realize that not everyone will be familiar with or committed to Christian concepts, but bear with me for a moment while I share what has most moved me. Rolheiser speaks of the hope of the Pascal Mystery (that is, the series of events surrounding Christ's death and resurrection) for our lives in a way that I have found personally relevant, but think could be relevant to others and to our community at large as well. The series of events are Good Friday (when Christ dies on the cross), Easter Sunday (when He rises to new life on Earth), a 40 day period before the Ascension (when He rises to heaven), and the Pentecost (when the Holy Spirit is received by his disciples). Now I realize that these are esoteric ideas to those who don't share this faith, but stick with me for a moment.
Rolheiser parallels what are fundamental Christian events to the patterns of our lives in order to create hope. For instance, he points to the shock to our system of a "death" experience, whether loss of a home, a job, a marriage, a child, etc. (Good Friday). Sometime after that death experience - it may take a while -- we may have a sense of "rising" to a new life - some sense of meaning that our lives are to have, some calling that has been shaken loose by the loss, some reevaluation of what is really important in our lives (Easter). Consider, for example, the long effort to get a mandatory seat belt law passed in Florida by a man whose daughter died as a result of not wearing a seat belt. Consider the passion with which the founder of Mother's Against Drunk Driving developed her organization after her child was killed by a drunk driver. Each of these "callings" arose from tremendous personal tragedy.
But even if we have felt called to a new life, there may be a long period of time (the 40 days) in which we are living with both the death and the new life - We are experiencing the profound sense of loss, the wish to return to our previous life, the wish to all that we have been forced to leave behind. But we are also experiencing the hope of a new life, the hope generated by the new sense of meaning and call. We may wonder how long this struggle will last, the struggle to let go of what's past and to fully embrace what is to come. We may wonder why we continue to feel depressed or sad when the promise of something better is in front of us. We may not truly want to let go. We may have no clarity about the process involved in actually getting to that new life. And some friends and family members may urge us to let go and move on before we are truly ready, before we have fully grieved the loss.
At some point, however, we reach the time for embracing the new life. And Rolheiser parallels this to the Ascension - That is, we need to let the old go, allow it rise and die (at least in some form) in order to fully receive the spirit of the new life to come (Pentacost).
I find myself reassured by this sense of a life and death cycle. It feels hopeful, promising. It gives the sense that we all have to go through this sort of a cycle when we experience a loss. No one escapes experiencing losses. But there is the promise of something better at the end of the cycle that can encourage us to fully embrace the cycle.
It is holding onto the notion of this cycle that offers us a sense of promise about our country's (well, world's actually) current condition. Many people are losing. Many other people are reaching out to help them. Hope comes from knowing that "this too shall pass," from many people being in the same boat, and from focusing our blame externally rather than toward ourselves. Obama and other leaders have made bold sweeping promises about the government's determination to raise people from the holes that they have been dropped into, to a place of partial government help (unemployment compensation increases, for example) while what is to come is "created," and to give all of us time to discover what that better will be.
We need to do what's necessary to recognize the "death" or loss for what it is: painful, awful, hurtful, but only the first step in the cycle. We need to call out for guidance and vision about where we need to go and have the hope that it will come. We need to surround ourselves with supportive people or groups to hold us while we are in the waiting period, experiencing both the loss and the hope in an alternating pattern. And eventually we will need to give up the anger and hurt and pain, allow it rise and move away. When we have learned all we can from it and let it go, we will be able to fully receive the "spirit" of the new life, fully embrace a hopeful future. It will no doubt look different than we ever imagined.
In the picture as Rolheiser describes it, I find hope. I find encouragement to be patient with myself through the waiting period of not knowing where my path may lead. I find promise that new life will come. It seems to me that if we have faith that the future does indeed hold a "new life" for us, then we can allow ourselves to be here, now, where we need to be. We can embrace both the pain and the promise. We can be patient with ourselves and with others. In the letting go are both sadness and gentleness, hurt and patience, trust in ourselves, others, and the universe at large. In fact, we can celebrate the talent of the many working together to raise ourselves out of the mire in which we have found ourselves.
So whether it is the personal loss of a home or job or family member, or the group loss of a pastor or teacher or leader, or the company loss of assets or clients or the CEO, we have choices. We can choose fear and anger and reactivity which may energize us to take needed action. But when we lose energy and feel depressed, or sad, or lose hope, we may also need promise and vision and call to hold onto. We may need to embrace both our attachments to what we have lost, and our hope for what is to come. And we will need cojourneyers along the way to hold out a hand and remind us of who we are, what we are called to do, what the promise is. Eventually, we must make the choice to allow our loss to rise and move away so that we can receive the spirit of our new life. But while we await that point, perhaps it helps to know that a waiting period is expectable, and normal, and will not go on forever.
Hope Dies Last (December 2008)
Studs Terkel, in an interview with Alex Kotlowitz of the AARP magazine, said that, unlike the Great Depression, hope was possible during this economic crisis because of the differences between the culture of the 1920's and our culture today. Terkel also pointed to what we could learn from the Great Depression.
Back in the 1920's, Terkel said, people thought "the man" knew. The "big boys" were in charge because they knew more; they had greater skills. And what a shock, he said, when the "wise men" blew it, when they didn't know what to do. When that happened, how could a person hope? Who could get the country out of a crisis if the people in charge didn't know how? Many people were furious. They blamed themselves. They lost their self-respect. They drank more. They fought more.
Some people weathered the crisis, though, and he describes how we might emulate them. Some drew hope from lending a hand or being on the receiving end of a hug. Other lessons learned during the Depression were "Don't blame yourself. Turn to others. Take part in the community."
We might also draw strength from they ways we are different from the people of the 1920's. For instance, now, Terkel said, people don't have a lot of trust in "the man." We are doubters. We agree with Terkel that "the big boys are not that bright." We are activists because during the 60's civil right movement and protests of the Vietnam war, we saw the power of activism. We decide for ourselves and determine our own fates more frequently, sometimes joining with others to have the impact we desire. And now, more than ever, Americans are raising their voices and, as Obama keeps reminding us, crying out for change.
So, what's it gonna be? When our jobs and mortgages are disappearing, when our neighbors are losing their homes, when we worry about our safety, what will we choose? Will we allow our fear to destroy our hope? Will we grab onto whatever we can get no matter whom it hurts? Will we let go of honor and love and caring and giving and all of the values we have cherished? Will we say, "Anything goes?"
Or will we follow Turkel's advice and lend a hand, turn to others, and become a community? Will we use this crisis as a warning, and, as Obama's team keeps urging us, stand up for change? Will we stand up and say, "No more taking what you can get, when you can get it, in any way you can," because that sort of behavior got us where we are today. Will we stand up and say, "Pursuit of what's good for ourselves can only get us so far. Without caring for those around us and the environment and our education systems, without limiting our greed, we will all lose." Will we stand up and say, "Come, I will help you and you will help me. We need one another, now more than ever." Will we let go of our pride and our self- or other-blame and admit our need for help; in fact, can we come to realize that people are supposed to help one another, and so we should even expect to receive help. And can we develop the trust in the people around us, trust that people care and will be looking around for ways to help. Can we use this crisis as a time to become a community, to regain the benefits of being a community, to realize that the old metaphors of "individuals pulling themselves up by their bootstraps" no longer work or are relevant? Can we embrace our interdependence?
I say, YES, WE CAN! The only question left is "WILL WE?" I will! Will you join me?
Back in the 1920's, Terkel said, people thought "the man" knew. The "big boys" were in charge because they knew more; they had greater skills. And what a shock, he said, when the "wise men" blew it, when they didn't know what to do. When that happened, how could a person hope? Who could get the country out of a crisis if the people in charge didn't know how? Many people were furious. They blamed themselves. They lost their self-respect. They drank more. They fought more.
Some people weathered the crisis, though, and he describes how we might emulate them. Some drew hope from lending a hand or being on the receiving end of a hug. Other lessons learned during the Depression were "Don't blame yourself. Turn to others. Take part in the community."
We might also draw strength from they ways we are different from the people of the 1920's. For instance, now, Terkel said, people don't have a lot of trust in "the man." We are doubters. We agree with Terkel that "the big boys are not that bright." We are activists because during the 60's civil right movement and protests of the Vietnam war, we saw the power of activism. We decide for ourselves and determine our own fates more frequently, sometimes joining with others to have the impact we desire. And now, more than ever, Americans are raising their voices and, as Obama keeps reminding us, crying out for change.
So, what's it gonna be? When our jobs and mortgages are disappearing, when our neighbors are losing their homes, when we worry about our safety, what will we choose? Will we allow our fear to destroy our hope? Will we grab onto whatever we can get no matter whom it hurts? Will we let go of honor and love and caring and giving and all of the values we have cherished? Will we say, "Anything goes?"
Or will we follow Turkel's advice and lend a hand, turn to others, and become a community? Will we use this crisis as a warning, and, as Obama's team keeps urging us, stand up for change? Will we stand up and say, "No more taking what you can get, when you can get it, in any way you can," because that sort of behavior got us where we are today. Will we stand up and say, "Pursuit of what's good for ourselves can only get us so far. Without caring for those around us and the environment and our education systems, without limiting our greed, we will all lose." Will we stand up and say, "Come, I will help you and you will help me. We need one another, now more than ever." Will we let go of our pride and our self- or other-blame and admit our need for help; in fact, can we come to realize that people are supposed to help one another, and so we should even expect to receive help. And can we develop the trust in the people around us, trust that people care and will be looking around for ways to help. Can we use this crisis as a time to become a community, to regain the benefits of being a community, to realize that the old metaphors of "individuals pulling themselves up by their bootstraps" no longer work or are relevant? Can we embrace our interdependence?
I say, YES, WE CAN! The only question left is "WILL WE?" I will! Will you join me?
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