Joys of the Quaker Way—Ministry Unfolds Into Ministry
October 29, 2014 § Leave a comment
Petal by petal, the blossoming
This is how my spiritual life as a Friend had unfolded so far:
- My original opening about creation, the cosmic Christ, and ecological destruction as eco-crucifixion became a leading to write a book of biblical eco-theology.
- This leading led me in turn to understand my more general concern for earthcare in terms of Quaker ministry. My spiritual life had looped back, from general concern for earthcare to specific leading to write about earth stewardship, back to my “concern”, now understood as an earthcare ministry, in the terms of the Quaker tradition of open ministry.
- Furthermore, my leading to write this book matured into a broader ministry of writing, in which this core creative impulse of my life was fused with my core identity as a religious person. God became for me my Muse.
So now I had one opening, one leading, and two ministries.
The birth of a third ministry around Quaker ministry
Because I felt led to write a work of biblical theology, and because I had been hostile to the Bible for so long; and because I now understood this undertaking as a religious calling, I felt I needed religious oversight. Not just support in my ministry, but discipline, accountability to my Guide and to my religious community for my faithfulness in the work.
So I asked my meeting for an oversight committee. They were unable to meet my needs.
I met twice with the Ministry and Counsel committee. The first time, no one seemed to understand what I was doing or what I was asking for. The second time, some members did finally understand, but they did not understand why I would ask for such a thing. “We don’t want to tell you what to think,” one member said. Also: “When you take it to a publisher, you will get the feedback you need from your editor.”
I didn’t want them to tell me what to think. I wanted them to tell me when what I was thinking and saying and writing was out of the Life—that is, born of my ego, or my unconscious hostility to the Christian tradition, or from any source other than the Holy Spirit. And an editor could only give me the world’s advice; God would have nothing to do with it, only the market. And it would have been too late by the time an editor saw my work anyway.
They did not understand how afraid I was. I felt a religious calling. I knew I had stuff inside me that would try to stop or distort or even corrupt the work I felt called to do. To fall into such a state of unfaithfulness would have been the most horrible outcome for me. I have no direct experience of G*d as judge, in the traditional sense of sin, judgment, and salvation; that has always seemed perverse to me. Nevertheless, I did feel under judgment. I did fear failing G*d my Muse. I wanted some protection from myself. And I had a firm commitment to the role of the Quaker community in the discernment and support and yes, oversight, of ministry.
My meeting did not understand what I was doing as ministry. I suspect that they did not understand the faith and practice of Quaker ministry very much at all, but at least they did not know how to apply it to an actual case of a Friend called into ministry.
Thus was born in me a third ministry: to recall, revive, and reform the faith and practice of ministry among Friends. Now, for more than twenty years I have labored to learn the Quaker tradition of ministry; to represent it wherever I worship, especially in meeting for worship with a care for the life of the meeting; to work toward reforming our structures and processes in accordance with this tradition; and, of course, to write about it.
Ministry and earthcare
Moreover, this new ministry has looped back to connect to the original earthcare ministry and the original leading to write about earthcare. I have come to believe that, for earthcare to truly take hold as a leading for the Society of Friends as a communion of worshipping communities, we must relearn and re-embody our tradition of ministry. We must know what it means to be called by G*d, as individuals, and as communities. And we must have eco-ministers, more Friends called to the ministry of earthcare who are mature in the faith and practice of ministry and who are getting the discernment and support they need from their meetings.
For all this to take place, we must relearn the faith and practice of Quaker ministry, so that all our members and attenders are accustomed to think of their work in the world as a calling. So that we all are listening always to hear that call. So that we are living lives that leave us free to answer the call. So that our meetings know how to give our ministers, whatever their call—for not all are called to eco-ministry—the discernment, support, and yes, oversight, that they need to be faithful in their call. And we need meetings that expect that G*d will call them as a community as well, activating us as meetings to protect the gift of creation.
Unfolding summarized—so far
So now, from one opening, I have had one clear leading and now have three ministries:
- The opening: the Logos, the Word, the cosmic Christ in creation, and ecocide as decide; G*d as the Soul of the Earth.
- The leading: to write a book of biblically-based earth stewardship; G*d as Caller.
- The first ministry: to awaken Friends to a concern for earthcare; G*d as Creator/Sustainer.
- The second ministry: writing in general as ministry; G*d as Muse.
- The third ministry: to recover the faith and practice of Quaker ministry among Friends; G*d as Guide and Teacher.
But G*d was not done with me. G*d had more unfolding in store. G*d had more faces to reveal.
Joys of the Quaker Way—Leading Unfolds into Ministry
October 26, 2014 § 1 Comment
That first leading was to write a book of biblically based eco-theology, about which I knew almost nothing. So I launched into a study of Christian earth stewardship and I followed the trails of biblical references in those books, studying the passages they referred to on their own in Bible commentaries, and then following the trails that this study opened me to.
To kickstart the project, I wrangled the money to go to Pendle Hill for a term in the winter of 1991, and I loved it so much that I wrangled the money to stay for another term. At Pendle Hill, especially in the Quakerism classes I took with Bill Taber and conversations we had, I learned to pursue this leading and the written ministry it led to in the context of the faith and practice of Quaker ministry.
I had been writing already for some time. Even before I became a Quaker, my writing life and my spiritual life had been closely tied, though I was mostly writing fiction and poetry. Then, as a Friend, I wrote the first draft of New York Yearly Meeting’s new Faith and Practice section on earth stewardship and a bunch of other short essays. But I had not yet come to think of this writing in the context of the faith and practice of Quaker ministry in the focused way I found at Pendle Hill.
Now I had a clear direction and I had a framework for understanding what I was doing as part of an ancient tradition.
A few years later, just when I thought I was ready to start writing the book, I heard about and applied for Earlham School of Religion’s Patrick D. Henry Scholarship for Christian Writers. They accepted my proposal and I went to Earlham for a term to begin writing the book.
The scholarship included the tuition for their course on Writing as Ministry plus a residency in D. Elton Trueblood’s library there, a beautiful brick one-story cottage with a huge fireplace and windows all around, a wide ledge above bookcases on all the walls below the windows, and several huge library hall-sized oak tables. For the first time, I could lay all my books and my notes out where I could get at them.
It was heaven. It was pure joy. I spent two months in an ecstatic creative outpouring of material. Only the first term at Pendle Hill had been such a sustained immersion in joyful surrender to G*d’s wish for me.
Thus began in earnest my calling to a ministry of religious writing. Two decades now of Quaker and biblical writing, guided, when I am in the Life, by the promptings of the Holy Spirit.
My leading had unfolded into ministry. And it has been full of joy, a sustained undercurrent of fulfillment spiced with moments of near-ecstacy when an opening comes from the study, or the words are pouring out of me feeling pure and unbidden for minutes on end, or even days, as it was at Earlham and has been at times since.
Joys of the Quaker Way—Openings & Leadings
October 25, 2014 § 1 Comment
Ministry Unfolds
The opening
My call to ministry began in 1987, I think. It was the year that Marshall Massey spoke at the FGC Gathering about the need for Friends to pick up an earthcare ministry and he had encouraged meetings to form committees around the concern. Eric Maya Joy and his family came to New York Yearly Meeting from the Gathering that year and I was among a handful of Friends who met with them as they passed on the call. That little group formed a Friends in Unity with Nature task group and began organizing interest groups, workshops, and so on.
In 1990, Buffalo Meeting asked FUN to send them a program for the 20th anniversary of Earth Day, and Ty Griese and I answered that call. On the Saturday night before the program, sitting on Talva Chapin’s Hide-A-Bed, going over my notes and praying, an opening suddenly seized me, a completely different message to give the next morning. In content it was not only completely unexpected; it was a cross to my habits of thought at the time.
It was an idea I later discovered in the work of Matthew Fox: that, if Christ, the Word, the Logos, had created the earth, as the Gospel of John chapter one says, and was in fact one with creation, then destroying the creation was recrucifying Christ. In the course of an hour that Saturday night, this initial insight kept ramifying and expanding and deepening. I literally quaked with its power and the joy and thrill of it.
Buffalo Meeting received this message rather coolly, as I remember. I did not blame them. I had spent the past ten years being hostile to Christianity and to the Bible, myself. I had been harassing Christian Friends in my meeting for their Christ-centered and biblical ministry. I had helped prevent the First Day School from teaching my kids the Bible. And now I was obsessing about the Bible and earth stewardship.
The leading
Over the next few weeks, the opening became a floodgate.
I had once known the Bible really well. In Lutheran confirmation class in seventh grade, I had memorized a couple dozen Psalms, the Sermon on the Mount in both Matthew and Luke, 1 Corinthians 13, dozens of individual passages, and virtually all of Luther’s Small Catechism. But only snatches came to me related to earthcare. I didn’t know enough. Yet a message was struggling to be born of what little knowledge I had.
Increasingly, I felt compelled—impelled—to write a book about earth stewardship. The impulse would not go away. It did not yield to my long-practiced hostility toward the Bible or the arguments i had been rehearsing for years against what I perceived to be its message and worldview. I could not ignore it.
In fact, this impulse rekindled my original adolescent love of the Bible. I found myself rehearsing the creation story in my head, thinking, “This is where I must start. I wonder what this story really means . . . “
I gave in. I surrendered to the seduction of the years of focused study that I knew this project required. I bought a study Bible, then another one. I paid for borrowing privileges at Princeton Theological Seminary library.
I felt that, if the Christian world could be convinced of the religious imperative to care for the earth, we could turn the corner as a planet. There were so many Christians, so many congregations, that it would only take a small critical mass to begin a worldwide revolution. But I felt that the Christian world would not listen unless the message came from Scripture.
I felt compelled to find that message, articulate it, and share it. I was going to write a book about earth stewardship, a work of biblical eco-theology. I had a leading.
The Joy of the Quaker Way
October 24, 2014 § 7 Comments
Modern Quakerism has a lot of problems and I have tended to dwell on them in this blog—too much. Nor are the problems all with Quakerism. I myself am a problem. I have a prophetic, if not an apocalyptic, religious temperament—I always want to change things and I usually think I know what needs to change, and oftentimes I think I know how they should change. Sometimes, I even think I know how to change them.
The shadow side of this temperament is a tendency to go negative, even to stay negative; to get crusty, even nasty, when things don’t change; and to get arrogant and self-righteous. I can tend away from my joy in my religious life, forgetting how much Quakerism has given me in my grousing about its shortcomings.
I want to change my path. I want to recall this joy that I feel in the Quaker way. And I want to share it. And there’s a lot of it. I rejoice in so many aspects of the Quaker way! So many that I thought it would be hard to know where to start. But no. Two things jump to the front right away, though there are many others. One is collective and one is individual. First, the exquisite joy of the gathered meeting; and second, the joy of Quaker ministry. This latter is where I want to start.
Quaker ministry
Only the shared thrill of G*d’s presence in our midst in the gathered meeting for worship compares with the more sustained personal fulfillment of dedicating what gifts I have to the work G*d has for me to do. Let me catalog them before I unpack them:
The unfolding of calling. The way my ministries have unfolded has been to me a miracle of divine love in revelation: openings have grown into leadings, leadings have expanded into ministries, ministries constellate as an integrated sense of calling. And all of this has compounded to create in me a profound gratitude, strong confidence in my faith, and the deepest joy of spirit, a joy that is always there if I but pay attention to it.
Individual openings. And all along the way, little flowers have bloomed in moments of soaring, flaring opening into some little truth that lift my spirit into heavenly heights. I cannot say how great this feels, “more than words can utter”, as George Fox put. I completely understand, George.
Study. And these blossoms open because my ministries keep plunging me back into the spiritual discipline that has always been one of my greatest joys—study. I love to study. I love to read about religion, to take notes, to organize the material for works of written ministry and for workshops and presentations. And because we have no paid professionals to learn and teach our tradition (at least in the non-pastoral tradition), I feel a special responsibility to know the tradition myself.
Teaching. And I get special satisfaction from sharing what I know. I love to teach, and no other religious community would give me such an open and blessed channel for whatever gifts of teaching I possess. This is perhaps the greatest source of my joy in the Quaker way, that I can be a minister here according to my true calling, and not according to the dictates of the denomination or the categories of the seminary. I have wanted to be a minister on and off since I was 12, but I could never have become one in the Lutheran tradition of my youth, or in practically any other. Only here, among the priesthood of all believers.
I want to spend the next few posts expanding on this theme of joy in the Quaker way, unpacking these and subsequent sources of this wonderful gift of thrill and fulfillment in my life.
Quaker Groups Statement — Climate Summit 2014
October 2, 2014 § 3 Comments
In September, seven Quaker groups produced a group statement on climate change for distribution ahead of the People’s Climate March in New York City and the Climate Summit held the next week at the United Nations. The organizations were Quaker Earthcare Witness, Quaker United Nations Office, Friends Committee on National Legislation, Quaker Council for European Affairs, American Friends Service Committee, Quakers in Britain, and Living Witness. Click the following link to download a pdf file of this statement, Facing the Challenge of Climate Change: A shared statement by Quaker groups.
I am very glad that these organizations were able to present to the world a testimony on this all-important issue. I know it sometimes is not easy to get approval for such a statement by even one organization, let alone so many. And these organizations carry considerable weight, both among Friends and in some parts of the wider society. Furthermore, I know that it sparked a lot of conversation around Quaker circles and some action. New York Yearly Meeting, at the least, endorsed the statement and released a press release about its endorsement. I suspect that some local meetings and maybe some other yearly meetings and organizations did so, as well. So hurray for the faithfulness of the Friends who crafted and approved this statement.
I do have some concerns, however. But in the comments and critique that follows, I hold up this statement, not as a failure on the part of the Friends who wrote it and approved it, but as a jumping-off point for a discussion of how we Friends—liberal Friends, anyway—pursue and articulate our social and ecological witness.
My concerns—a summary. The writer in me wishes the statement were bolder—stronger and more direct in its language. The Quaker minister in me wishes it was more prophetic in its message and that that message came from closer to the heart of our tradition. Another way to put this concern is that I wish God and the faith and practice of Quaker ministry played a more central role. The document designer in me wishes it were formatted more attractively.
All this inner grumbling has made me somewhat outwardly grumpy. I’ve written about this before: The liberal branch of Quakerism consistently produces witness statements that barely mention God and use secular language rather than clearly religious language, let alone distinctively Quaker language, to make its arguments. These minutes of conscience often could have been written by some secular organization, for all that you can tell.
Stronger language. In the main body of the statement, paragraphs begin, “We recognize . . . “ “Recognize” is as passive an action word as you can get. All you have to do to recognize something is to have your eyes open and your brain turned on. No small thing in this time of eco-denial, I admit. But we Friends can do much more than “recognize”—can’t we? Can we not TESTIFY!? If you replace all the Statement’s “We recognize” phrases with “We testify”, or something else that clearly declares our stand as religious, Quaker, and God-breathed, how much more powerful would it read! If you do these replacements, however, you quickly recognize that you need to change the message itself.
Prophecy. One testifies to the Truth. One testifies as a witness, which implies a prophetic judgment. One testifies to the Truth on behalf of its Source. Traditionally, a prophetic oracle invokes God, names the sin, and then it often predicts the consequences of that sin, hopefully with vivid and even poetic images. The language in this statement lacks prophetic teeth; in fact, it’s weak in prophetic perspective. If this testimony arose from a prompting of the Holy Spirit, then it should say so. Now I realize that some of these organizations serve “constituencies” that might not be comfortable with such overt religious language or they may have other obligations related to funding and mission that complicate the process for public proclamations like this. My question is about source and truth in our prophetic witness, and not really about this particular document: Do our minutes of conscience come from divine prompting? Are we speaking truth to power? What is that truth? And are we courageous enough to give it a prophetic voice that comes from our own venerable tradition?
Quaker tradition. Almost all the language of the Statement invokes the rhetoric of secular social justice work and secular environmental science. It uses “anthropogenic” (a technical, somewhat off-putting word that it must then define, which sounds condescending to my ears), “mean temperature rises”, “most vulnerable peoples”, “global economic injustice”, “limited natural resources”, “fossil fuel extraction”, “beautiful human family”. It never taps the rich resources of Quaker written tradition, except for the fantastic quote from William Penn at the beginning. It never invokes the Bible, either, except obliquely in its reference to the “peaceable Kingdom of God”, even though the Bible is the original source of all our testimonial rhetoric, just as the Holy Spirit is the source of the testimonial life itself, and of the distinctive testimonies that have arisen from that Life.
Speaking of God. Here’s the crux of the matter: Where is God in our public witness? The statement concludes with this sentence: “We see this Earth as a shining gift that supports life. It is our only home. Let us care for it together.” I wish we would end our minutes of conscience with powerful, explicitly Quaker/religious prophetic oracles.
The “gift” idea in this last sentence suggests a possibility for some earth stewardship language that clarifies where this gift came from (the Creator) and why we have a religious responsibility for it (stewardship). I think Christian earth stewardship has some problems of its own (the topic of my first unpublished book). However, if we took full responsibility for its principles, we would have a truly radical agenda, and earth stewardship has the additional value of appealing to a lot of people in language they understand. The gift comes from God, it’s not ours to do with as we please, we will be held accountable for how we steward the gift. It would speak most directly, I would think, to evangelical Christians, and to many Muslims and orthodox Jews.
However, when this last sentence capitalizes “Earth”, it unconsciously reaches for another perhaps more powerful if more difficult Truth, which the quote from Penn prefigures: Earth is not just a gift for life support, our spaceship earth. It is not just our home. Earth is worth capitalizing because it is alive with the very life and spirit and presence of the Creator. “In the beginning was the Word, and the word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God (referring to Genesis 1:1 here). All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.” (John 1:1-3)
Many Friends may not rise to this language the way I do, but it expresses poetically in the language of our tradition the truth that, in some deep and mysterious way, our God and the earth are one; they are integral to each other at the deepest levels of reality. Never mind the spat between Genesis and evolution; the creative process—evolution—expresses the divine in true and important ways. This truth is the traditional foundation for the testimony that Penn gives us in that epigram at the beginning: that the face of the Creator is “in all and every part of” creation.
This means that to destroy the Earth is to re-crucify Christ, who is the Word. Ecocide is deicide, not just suicide.
That’s what I wish this statement had said.
Muse is silent
September 30, 2014 § 13 Comments
I haven’t posted for a while and if I end up being silent for a while longer, I wanted you my readers to know why.
Of the Aspects of G*d I have known directly, one of the most precious to me is Muse. My writing life and my spiritual life are very closely knitted: my writing turns and transforms and reveals my inner work and opens my path forward, and my path inspires my pen.
I recently wrote a Quaker piece (not for this blog) that was, I was shown, clearly out of the Life. This has prompted me to question the rest of my Quaker writing. My muse is confused.
So I find that I’m in a period of waiting, of standing still in the light, and putting this blog aside for awhile until the way becomes clear again.
Challenges for Large Quaker Meetings
September 9, 2014 § 5 Comments
I moved to Philadelphia in June and while packing my Quaker library I uncovered a paper I didn’t know I had: The Caring Multitude: Is It Possible? Preliminary Reflections on Experience in a Large Quaker Meeting in an Urban Setting, by Dan Seeger. Dan is a fairly well-known Friend who has held several high-level positions with AFSC and was Executive Director of Pendle Hill for a time, among a number of other significant contributions to Quaker culture. His 1965 case before the US Supreme Court, The United States of America vs Daniel A. Seeger, won the right to conscientious objection to military service for secular people who were not claiming religious grounds for their stand.
The Caring Multitude was written in 1979 and was originally meant “to be shared with a small group of Friends concerned with the life of the Monthly Meeting”. I am not at all sure how I ended up with a copy, which is a photocopy of a typewritten manuscript that has someone else’s notes on it.
In this little talking paper, as he calls it, Dan addresses the challenges that large urban meetings face in three crucial areas: pastoral care, meeting for worship, and corporate social outreach. He makes a lot of really interesting points. More than interesting—they are true, to my mind, and very much worth considering, especially by Friends worshipping in large meetings.
Because I don’t have permission to republish his paper, I don’t feel comfortable even quoting it extensively, which I would like to do, but I do want to raise up some of his ideas and add some of my own, and invite my readers to think about them. They are especially pertinent for Friends in large meetings and for those of us who attend regional and yearly meeting sessions that get large.
What do I mean by “large”? I want to leave this definition to the subjective sense of large, rather than giving a number. I think, when you read further, you will have a sense of what I mean. And anyway, some of these dynamics apply even to smaller meetings.
What it’s like to worship in a “large” meeting?
I agree with Dan’s assessment that our way of silent, waiting worship doesn’t really work in large meetings. That it can’t work, in fact. Here’s why (the core insight here is Dan’s; most of the elaboration is mine):
A certain proportion of Friends are likely to feel a genuine call to speak in meeting. Another proportion are likely to speak with less obvious grounding in the Spirit. The more people in the meeting, the more people are likely to speak. When the population gets to a certain point, you get an awful lot of speaking, and, as Hegel first pointed out, at that point, quantitative change precipitates qualitative change.
First, it tends to induce popcorn speaking, a chain reaction of messages that have been prompted more by each other than by the Holy Spirit. Second, the increased number of messages squeezes the intervals between messages, and this squeezing suppresses the ministry of those Friends who feel it’s important to leave a decent interval between messages and who use that interval to properly attend to each offering. Thus the Friends who are most likely to bring a deeper, more seasoned ministry to the meeting are least likely to finish their seasoning or find an appropriate moment in which to deliver it.
This has several bad effects. First, by denying Friends the time of waiting silence necessary to go deep, we don’t go deep. By denying Friends the vocal ministry of some of its most gifted ministers, we disrespect both the Holy Spirit and the Spirit’s servants. And by virtually guaranteeing a certain amount of un-gifted ministry, we degrade the quality of the worship.
Furthermore, the situation reinforces the low standards for both corporate behavior and individual ministry that prevail in such a meeting, encouraging more of the behavior that causes the problem. It gives newcomers a false impression of what meeting for worship is for, and it inevitably drives some of them away. I know this from personal experience: one of my sons stopped attending such a meeting because “the same blowhards rise to speak every meeting”. And it drives away seasoned Friends who want a deeper worship experience; but before they go, it leads them into grief and even despair.
And the whole dynamic is a self-reinforcing downward spiral. The more devoid of Spirit the ministry is,
- the more likely that gifted ministers will either keep quiet (and bring down the spirit of the worship with their despair), or leave;
- the less likely that avid Spirit-seekers will stay and join;
- the more bandwidth the blowhards will occupy; and
- the more likely that gifted ministers will lower their own standards in desperation, and then get even more depressed because of their own perceived unfaithfulness.
Does any of this make sense to you? Is it your experience? Do you serve on a ministry and worship committee, which is charged with nurturing a deep meeting for worship and with protecting the worship from unworshipful influences? Do you have any idea what to do about these problems?
I hope you respond, and, in my next post, I want to try out some ideas for dealing with these problems. Some come from Dan’s paper, and some are my own.
2014 Swarthmore Lecture: Open for Transformation—Being Quaker
September 2, 2014 § 2 Comments
Ben Pink Dandelion is one my favorite Quaker authors and he gave the 2014 Swarthmore Lecture at Britain Yearly Meeting Sessions this summer. As usual, his thoughts are well worth considering. You can listen to the Lecture itself by clicking on the link below. The book is also available from QuakerBooks.org and the book version is usually an expanded version for print publication; I have not read it yet, but I plan to. A video is promised soon from BritainYearly Meeting.
I highly recommend it.
Gift Exchange Economies—An Alternative?
August 28, 2014 § 5 Comments
Well, I’ve been ranting and railing against the capitalist economic system for several posts now, using strong words like “evil” (which I didn’t bother to define) and “dung”. I find it brings out the vitriolic in me; it tempts me to a righteous and poetic indignation. Not so good. Not very constructive, anyway.
So it’s time to own up once again to the fact that our economic system is not only evil—not only hierarchical and anti-democratic; competitive, if not actually violent; deceitful and manipulative; inherently anti-worker and effectively anti-consumer; carcinomic, rapacious, and unsustainable; oh, and anti-biblical . . .
It is also good, in that it has raised the standard of living for huge numbers of people, arguably in fact everyone on the planet—except for indigenous peoples. It is an extremely creative engine of technological advance, and many of these advances serve the greater human good. Not so much the good of whales and frogs.
But more to the point—what else is there?
When I first started talking and writing about these predicaments of capitalism and Quaker testimonies, the Soviet Union still held sway over millions of people, and inevitably, Friends would respond with: “So, what—would you have us all become communists? Look how well that’s working out.” As if there were only two economic systems in the world. Now, many Americans anyway, think there is only one.
But what about socialism? Some democratic quasi-socialist states, like Norway, are doing quite a bit better than we are by virtually every measure. Many countries have vital socialist parties and manage, mostly, not to fall into chaos or hell, as the true believers in capitalism fear would happen here.
Meanwhile, everyone seems to have forgotten that fascism is also an economic system, featuring private ownership of capital but state control of the economy. Also basically a failed experiment.
But the economic systems that I find most attractive are the gift-exchange economies that most indigenous peoples have. Had. Virtually all the traditional gift exchange economies on earth have been destroyed by the market economy.
In a gift exchange economy, one gathers power, not by amassing wealth, but by giving it away. Those gifts obligate the receiver to reciprocate in some way at some time. Because people are different, as are circumstances, places, luck, and a host of other factors, some people end up with more power than other people—they have wider networks of obligation owed to them than the complex of obligations they owe to others. They often become chiefs.
The classic case is Sitting Bull. Sitting Bull was the first and only man to be the traditional chief of all seven tribes of the Lakota people. He achieved this status by providing many gifts, but one especially—the (temporary) salvation of his people. Sitting Bull saw that the American military strategy was to cut off the annual, seasonal, north-south migration of the bison, kill them off, and starve the plains peoples into submission. Military power wasn’t doing so well, at least not until the invention of the carbine, a short-barreled repeating rifle that could be cocked with one hand and used in close quarters, and thus was suitable for use by cavalry. William Tecumseh Sherman, more famous for his reign of terror across the deep South during the Civil War, and named, ironically, after one of the greatest Indigenous warriors of all time, commanded the Indian Wars for a time; he called the Plains Indians the best light cavalry on the planet, with the possible exception of the Cossacks, another indigenous horse-people.
Anyway. Sitting Bull’s counter-strategy was to cut off the southern bison migration himself and keep what was left of the bison herds in the north. He talked all seven tribes, the Northern Cheyenne, and several other tribes, into cooperating to achieve this. This delayed the conquest of the Northern Plains for almost a generation. Among his own people, he was called He Feeds the People. The Lakota gifted him with this name in recognition of his great gift to them.
In gift exchange economies, you gain power by feeding people. Or by giving them hides, for clothing, shelter, containers, bedding, etc. Or by giving them rights to one of your fishing camps. Or by gifting them with horses, or basket rushes, or . . . You get the idea.
Now, you feed people and provide all these other necessaries, in many traditional indigenous life-ways, by being very good at living with the land, by really knowing it and understanding it, by possessing a sublime eco-intelligence, by possessing valuable skills, by possessing powers of organization and persuasion, by caring about future generations. By giving.
Gift exchange economies elevate social roles, instead of giving people jobs. Instead of working for a wage and then buying your life in parts and assembling it at home, like we do, in a gift exchange economy, you trade goods and services, tasks and labor, favors, songs and dances, names, reputations and loyalties. You sing at my daughter’s wedding; I give your whole family meat that lasts a week; or maybe, two winters later, I take you in when your own hunters can’t find a herd.
Gift exchange economies work for small groups who live in partnership with the land. Scaling one up to serve 300 million people would be a challenge. When everyone lives three or ten degrees of separation from basic production of basics—of food, building materials, energy sources, clothing materials, medicines, etc.—the chains of exchange would become extremely complicated; only computers could keep track. When everyone in the system has quite specialized skills and jobs, trading services would be impossible. When the only thing you could trade is things, you are still locked into the mass production-mass consumption economy to acquire the things you might trade in the first place. So—elegant idea, maybe, but totally impracticable.
The market economy has won. It’s like kudzu: it soaks up so much of the sunlight that no other economies stand a chance.
What to do? We are left with the project of radically reforming capitalism.
We could start with usury laws. These were deregulated under Ronald Reagan, so many of us remember a time when interest rates were regulated more or less equitably, though I doubt that many of us were really paying attention. I know I wasn’t. But you can draw a straight line from Reagan’s policies on interest rates to the Great Recession. And here, unlike with many of our modern problems, the Bible really has something to offer as a starting point.
So let’s start there. Next time.
Mendaciousness—Capitalism and the Testimony of Integrity
August 15, 2014 § 4 Comments
I said in the introductory post of this series on capitalism and Quaker testimonies that, in terms of both its accounting methods and its conduct of competition in what it likes to call the open market, capitalism has built lies into its very structure. It also encourages deceit by its practitioners. It lies about its overhead, about the true costs of the resources it consumes and the wastes it produces. And it lies to its end-users in its advertising.
Capital lies.
The material culture of capitalism requires raw materials, resources that come from our Mother Earth to make and do the things it sells to consumers. It assumes that half the balance sheet of the Earth—the planet’s assets—are available for the taking. As for the liabilities, especially the accounts payable—to these capitalism turns its gigantic blind eye.
This cavalier attitude toward the Earth’s bounty should be noxious to anyone or any culture that holds a biblical worldview because “the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof” (Psalm 24:1; actually this is only one translation of this passage, and not, I suspect the most valuable one, both to us and to the writer of the Psalm—but that is another post). In this view, the Earth is not even a gift, but actually a loan. God has put it into our hands for right use and we will be held accountable for that use. But, when it comes to economics, our society is anything but biblical in its worldview, and the more conservative you are, and even the more conservative Christian you are, the less biblical your economic worldview is likely to be.
But back to capitalism and the Earth’s balance sheet. The “households” in our economic system factor the current cost of the resources it extracts from Mother Earth into the prices it charges for the goods and services it provides. Businesses pay the current value of these resources in the market. They factor in the cost of the rights to extraction; they factor in the cost of the resource as determined by competition for it in the market; they factor into the end-product price the cost of its transformation into capital goods. It’s worth noting, however, that the players in these markets try to distort the markets or manipulate them in order to get advantageous prices. This works especially well in the international market for raw materials, where the over-developed nations almost always hold resource-rich developing countries at a disadvantage.
However, the current value of a resource is not its real value. We do not really know its real value, because it is likely only to go up over time as the supply dwindles. More importantly, while a given resource (say, molybdenum, which is used in specialty steels, and which only a couple of countries currently produce)—while a given resource may be quite valuable to us today for our consumption, it might be desperately necessary some time in the future to our descendants for something we cannot today even imagine. Capitalism is oblivious to our descendants’ needs and it cares not a whit for the fact that they will curse us for our profligacy.
To account for this unknown potential value of Earth’s assets, we should be creating escrow trust accounts to help our descendants cope with the shortages we are creating. And we should be doing the same thing with the resources themselves; we should be holding some percentage of all that we extract as a trust against the demands of the future.
We do neither of these things. We lie about the true cost and value of our capital.
Waste lies.
We do the same thing with the true cost of our waste management. Capitalism does not figure into its pricing the real, final cost of disposing of its wastes safely, which ought to be part of its overhead, and never is. And when—or, to be realistic, if—the bill ever comes due for cleanup, capitalists inevitably try to squirm out of paying; it hurts profits and equity value.
This is especially important for wastes that do not biodegrade, but remain toxic and present in the body and bloodstream and organs of Mother Earth more or less permanently. And because Mother Earth is us—because our very bodies come from her—these wastes remain toxic and present in our bodies and bloodstreams and organs, as well.
The great killer disease of the industrial age was tuberculosis, the destruction of human lungs caused by the use of coal as a fuel. The great killer disease of the post-industrial age is cancer, the mutation of cells by toxic foreign substances. Thus some serious percentage of our healthcare costs should be included in the overhead cost of waste management.
Capitalism pretends that the only cost it must bear for managing its prodigious waste stream is the immediate one of getting it some distance away from its producer and providing for some minimal treatment before it gets poured back into Earth’s bloodstream or buried in her soil-flesh.
The superfund put aside for the treatment of “superfund” sites should be the model for the entire economic system. The goal should be zero toxic, non-recyclable waste returning to Mother Earth, zero toxic substances in our own bodies and those of our children—and a massive escrow account fed by some meaningful percentage of every economic transaction set aside to solve these so-far unsolvable problems in the future and to fund research and care for a public health increasingly threatened by capitalist dung.
The true cost of eliminating carbon dioxide, or uranium waste, or the 50,000 or so chemicals that we have never even tested for toxicity, would be staggering. So we just don’t think about it. Let the great-grandchildren deal with it.
In fact, if we really did account properly in our pricing for the destruction of natural capital and the remediation of capitalist waste, the system would collapse. Short-term greed is the main reason we don’t deal with these issues, but the reason we don’t even talk about it is the existential threat to the system itself that transitioning to an honest economic system represents.
Advertising—marketing lies.
Finally, capitalism depends on advertising for growth in an environment of intense competition for market share. This tempts economic households to psychologically manipulate their consumers through advertising. This manipulation distorts human relationships by turning consumers into objects. It tends to misrepresent the true character and value of its goods and services to make them seem more valuable than they really are. It tends to hide any negative aspects of its products and services. It resists attempts to keep it honest and transparent. The tobacco industry is the classic example. More recently, the lies and subterfuge about credit default swaps and mortgage derivatives brought the entire system to its knees—and taught the liars no real lessons at all.
But misrepresentation of products and services is just the more or less visible surface of its mendaciousness. More troubling really, is the ways that advertising invades and distorts our worldview, our understanding of the good life, and thus our very dreams. It tells us that consumption is good for us; that low prices that allow more of us to consume more, are good for us; that we actually need the things that in reality we simply desire. It tells us that the good life is defined by the things and experiences that we can buy in the marketplace.
The catch-all phrase (in America) for this constellation of lies is “the American dream”—owning your own house and as many good cars as your family thinks it needs, providing a good education for your children, securing freedom from fear of want, healthcare, and acquiring some things that provide, or at least represent, a comfortable life. Now, given the system, who could argue? These are all good things that anyone would want.
Only the earth cannot sustain seven billion American dreams. Nor is it true that you need all these things to be happy or fulfilled. And especially, it is not true that a mass production–mass consumption economy is the only way to have these things.
Is it? Are there any alternatives to this kind of system? These are my first queries for Friends. Here are some more:
How do we remain true to the testimony of integrity when our entire social, and material, and perceptual, and cognitive, and physical, and even emotional environments are totally saturated with lies—with salesmen seeing in me the pathway to their quota, with plastic bubble-wrap for individual pieces of processed cheese product, with images of half-clad women tugging on my pud with the promise of some fantasy fulfillment, with ideas like “the American dream”, with ads and billboards everywhere I look, with false desire trying to crash the gates of my amygdala? Why should our spiritual discernment and environment be polluted by this trash?
And now to the core: Would I be willing to pay the real cost of sustainable resource capital management and waste management with markedly greater prices for everything? And with my or your (probably) stagnant wages, how could you or I? Would I be willing to utterly change my lifestyle to accommodate a truly sustainable economy? For instance, would I accept the inevitable percentage of vermin that bulk food distribution inevitably entails—not just bring my own containers to the store—so that we could limit food packaging to the every minimal and the truly recyclable? How much am I willing to sacrifice, so that Mother Earth—and her creator-logos-the-christ—are not crucified on the cross of our economy instead?