Longing for Tikkun
by: Alana Yu-lan Price on July 12th, 2009 | 11 Comments »
Sunset in Constitucion, Chile.
Something cracked open inside of me nine years ago. At the time I was living in Chile, attending a high school in a small fishing town. I think it was the first time I felt a visceral and urgent longing for tikkun.
It happened when my host mother assured me that Pinochet had done nothing wrong. The people killed under his rule were mala gente, she said: they were leftists and deserved to die. Her comment took me by surprise and left me feeling sick with emotion. Just a few days before, my best friend Pablo — a socialist who had helped out with literacy drives under Allende — had painfully and haltingly opened up to me about his loved ones who were killed under Pinochet.
It’s hard to explain how vulnerable I felt there, as a teenager far from my hometown in Wisconsin. My Chilean host mother had welcomed me into her house, cared for me when I was sick, sheltered me, fed me, comforted me after a traumatic car accident, and rushed in to check on me when an earthquake struck during the night. I was so grateful to her, so connected to her and so indebted to her. She was kind and gentle. How could she have dehumanized her neighbors so much so as to wish for their death? Would she wish for my death, too, if I shared my political ideas with her?
My insides cracked open that day because I realized that one of the “bad guys” was a real person whom I loved and needed. Growing up among progressives in Madison, I had learned from many leftists to demonize supporters of the far right. It was easy to do so because my closest friends and immediate family members were all more or less on the left. Deep down I think I expected Pinochet supporters to somehow look or act like monsters. Suddenly I was forced to confront the fact that I had stereotyped them in my mind. And I realized that the glib demonization of people like my host mother would neither heal Pablo’s pain nor usher in an era of human rights protections in Chile.
These memories burbled up in me earlier this year when I read this passage from the introduction to the Tikkun Reader:
To be tikkunish is to assert that despite the distortions in all of us, there is a fundamental capacity for human decency, even in those who are engaged in immoral acts or who have strayed from their own ability to recognize the God in others.
The passage resonated deeply with me, even though — as an agnostic — I had to translate the phrase a bit to connect to it, substituting “humanity” or “life” in place of the word “God.” I find my mind circling back to this phrase and to my memories of Chile again now, during the first month of Tikkun Daily, as I try to envision this joint blog’s place in the noisy, online progressive media-scape.
The Web is already peppered with smart political blogs making strong calls for social change. What does Tikkun Daily have to offer?
Our hope is that this blog will distinguish itself in part through its refusal to demonize and stereotype people who are blocking efforts at radical empowerment and social change. Tikkun Daily will offer a new voice if we succeed in wholeheartedly critiquing violence against oppressed groups and decrying the institutionalization of racism and sexism without losing sight of the humanity (and capacity for empathy and transformation) of everyone involved — even the oppressors.
Very moving, Alana- thank you for sharing this. In a piece I wrote about a year ago about how my faith in the virtue of Israel changed as I grew up I wrote this:
This was, as I recall, pretty much around the same time when I discovered that my grandfather had fought for Germany in World War 1, and I couldn’t believe that either, because everyone knew that the Germans were always the bad guys, and yet my grandfather was very clearly a good guy, which made no sense. It’s very hard when the map by which you navigate shows a clear easy walk ahead, and you keep running into those damn swamps.
Part of growing up, a part some people take longer to reach than others, is realizing that the world isn’t divided into good and bad people. As Solzhenitsyn says, in “The Gulag Archipelago” “If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”
I share your hope for this blog, and look forward to working with you on it.
What a beautiful quotation from Solzhenitsyn about destroying a piece of our own hearts. Thanks for sharing this, Peter.
A beautiful and lyrical essay, Alana. It was the Rizhoner Rebbe, I believe, who put the struggle with a belief in G!d this way:
Either G!d is in charge and
I am not doing enough to serve, or
G!d is not in charge
In which case
It is all my fault
A “rebbe” [Reb-eh or Reb-ee] is an enlightened spiritual leader. In the Chasidic world the Rebbe leads the community.
The Hebrew word ra’ah רע
What a beautiful post, Alana! Yes, I think you are right that one of the things that might characterize “spiritual progressives” is our refusal to lose sight of the humanity of those with whom we disagree. Part of the task we all face is to learn ways to express our own convictions clearly and unabashedly while still remaining open to being impacted by those who disagree. I’m happy that you and I are involved in this project together.
To hear people speak of other people as if they were less than objects, knowing that something of the speaker’s own shame is being injected into the “person-object”, yet feeling inadequate to come up with the precise words necessary to convey the concept either to the mind or the heart… that may be the archetypal “peacemaker’s cross”. Experiencing that kind of objectifying language as if one were nailed to it, unable to free oneself from the categories that consume people and make them into food for mental cannibalism.
Ultimately, it does come down to the ability to speak to the unconscious mind. The “political mind” is occupied by cliches and mantras repeated so often that it might be considered dead tissue in the brain, a lesion like the ones suffered by stroke victims, unable to get back some part of language. Other parts of the mind are still alive, can still show compassion, and can easily connect to others. It’s as if some part of people becomes zombified, turned into a monstrous thing, while the rest of the person must hang on for whatever feeling of security the zombie-mind provides.
The unconscious mind does seem to have an “impeccable observer” that knows when one is projecting, demonizing, gossipping or doing other destructive things with language. It’s as if people become allergic to the God inside them that sees their own sin alongside their enemy’s sin. Jesus was good at getting this idea across: “Let him without sin, cast the first stone.” But now, so many stones are being thrown about… maybe guilt and innocence must become one in order for humanity to stop judging. Maybe it is only when we are all guilty and all innocent, paradoxically at the same time, that the game of judgment ends and redemption is possible. If that is the case, can you accept that Pinochet and his victims were all innocent, minus the cloud of enmity between them that fogged their minds?
One useful tool is questioning: “What is a Leftist?” “How many Leftists have you known?” “Did you ever meet Pinochet?” By asking questions that delve into specifics, you can often enable people to question their own assumptions without feeling judged. Former supporters of Hitler and the Nazis often have psychological defenses implanted in their brains which prevent them from seeing the evil they supported — who among us would WANT to experience that, who would want to look back and realize that they’ve enabled evil in the world to harm human beings? Denial is perhaps not just the easy way out but the only way out for people in that position.
There is one possible alternative I’ve explored in my own thinking: radical redemption. Everyone, perpetrator and victim alike, is innocent after the damage has been done, but carrying trauma from the event which fogs their minds in different ways. The victim cannot see humanity in the perpetrator, and the perpetrator and his supporters cannot see the humanity in their victims. I believe it is possible to forgive and show complete mercy to both sides, and then put all that energy, all that judging and vengeful thinking, to work dismantling current systems that are doing evil to human beings. In other words, forgive the Nazis, now that the gas chambers are empty. But turn all desire for justice/vengeance/punishment into destroying systems currently committing genocide, without condemning any individual human being. This way of thinking feels more empowering to me and less like a game of “who gets the spanking”, which is the sense I get from many discussions about justice.
Michael
Michael, thanks for sharing all these thoughts. I’m keen to hear more about instances when you have seen radical redemption-based approaches work in practice to destroy violent systems.
I find value in your idea that both the perpetrators and victims of violence carry trauma with them afterward, but I don’t agree with the idea that we should focus only on violent institutions and never on the individuals who make them run. Like Nancy (below), I see justice as about much more than “who gets the spanking” — I think it’s possible to hold each other accountable and responsible for the violence that we inflict on others without demonizing each other. For example, it’s possible and vital to take legal action against individual politicians who have supported torture without losing sight of their humanity.
And what about forms of violence (like domestic violence) that don’t have a clear institutional champion? To stop domestic violence we do need to make institutional changes in our society, but we also need to confront and hold to account individual perpetrators of abuse.
I agree with all of you and am very tikkunish in my thinking and committment. Michael Lerner and David Korten (The Great Turning, Agenda for a New Economy) both have encouraged us to aim at fostering a higher spiritual consciousness in people, so they can get above their insecurities, join with others, and have power to change conditions via a wave of public opinion. The trouble I find is that people compartmentalize their spirituality in order to function in jobs, keep friends and family relationships intact, and to avoid precipitating violence. That leads me to the need for the context–our systems–to change. Obama brought hope, but he and all the public officials seem to be severely limited by the power of the financial institutions and the corporations, whose money makes the world go around. He is doing a fantastic job of national and world diplomacy, but is losing credibility dealing with economic collapse and the compromises he has had to make with this power elite. Between the word and the action falls a shadow. That is the gist of some great quote–whose??
I just had a big fight with my best friend who has been in business and believes in pre-1970′s free enterprise, who listens to conservative pundits that fan her fears and blame “the liar” Obama for everything. I argued with facts that I know that were convincing, I thought, but got nowhere. She has the amnesia that Bush supporters encourage because “he kept the country safe.” She is ill and has family and financial worries, but sustains herself on her self image as an independent survivor, and needs the security having been right in her beliefs. I do the same thing, trying to justify my thinking and behavior, currently seeing scrupulosity as moral integrity rather than a symptom of a psychiatric disorder (obsessive compulsive)! I recognize that I, as a liberal, think too much, see all sides, and love too much. Narcissists who don’t see outside of their own heads can be so much more empowered. So, lets make sure we keep the tedious checks and balances, and never stop debating. Yes to this blog.
What a moving post, Alana! It reminds me of a time just before the Iraq War began. I was telling my mother that I was sending reiki (healing chi, healing energy) to then-President Bush. In her terms, I was praying for him. And her response was shock and disbelief. Eventually she said, “You’re a better person than I am.” I’m not sure I’m any better than she, but I was hoping against hope that despite everything and with a little help from his “friends” (or in my case, people who disagreed with him completely), he might do the right thing and not invade Iraq. I was hoping for his “fundamental capacity for human decency” to assert itself.
Obviously I agree that it’s important for us at Tikkun Daily not to demonize or stereotype others. But I believe that justice is also part of our goal. I don’t agree with Michael Lockhart (below) that justice is about “who gets the spanking.” Take an example that’s extremely contemporary. I believe that we need to take legal action against those members of the Bush administration who acted illegally, whether it was in terms of okaying torture, or violating our civil rights, etc. Without this, we allow our democracy to be undermined. And that hurts all of us.
This is an extremely important conversation. Thanks you for starting it.
Thanks for this response, Nancy! I definitely agree that justice is a central part of the goal.
Reading your story about Bush made me think of a community organization in Philadelphia that also seemed to demand justice from individuals without demonizing. It’s one example of how holding individual perpetrators of violence accountable for their actions can be integrally related to an awareness of their humanity (and consequent potential for rehabilitation and behavior modification).
Here’s what I remember hearing about it: people said it started as a support group for survivors of rape but then evolved into a community-based justice network that not only supported survivors but also confronted perpetrators and communicated the survivors’ needs and demands to them. So if the survivors decided not to go to court, they had this alternate community framework for holding the abusers accountable. Volunteers from the group would go talk to the perpetrators, calling them out and then explaining the rape survivor’s demands (usually that the abuser not go to certain parts of town or call the rape survivor, or things like that). The volunteers didn’t have any real power to punish or enforce, but they would go in groups and make firm verbal demands for the abusers to reflect on the pain and horror of their acts and be accountable to the community by fulfilling the survivors’ basic demands. People said it often worked.
Alana, Your most recent reply gives me great hope (the story of the alternate to taking rapists to court) and agrees with what I think we need to do in this huge country. Sometimes it’s a problem of scale. In some situations, we need smaller communities to bring the force of influence to bear on perpetrators, rather then the impersonal force of the law. If we create real community, with real, live people interacting with one another, then our actions take on more significance. We’re meant to live in villages. We evolved in small communities. I’m not saying that we should do away with the law. Obviously not. But our interconnections are much more abstract within that framework, and much more real when we are interacting with other people.
I also want to respond to Michael’s post again. It took me a while, but I finally realized that you were talking about what I call projection in your response, Michael. I know that psychological mechanism very well. The best example of it in my experience was the witch burnings in the late Middle Ages and the early Renaissance. Most people today know very little about what happened then, but most people in the West (including the US) can tell you that a witch is an evil woman. And why is that? Because as a culture we feel guilty about killing the approximately 100,000 (mostly) women at that time for nothing more than petty jealousies (the usual cause), professional conflicts of interest (for example the new doctors replacing the herbalists), and (very rarely) heresy. And since our culture feels so guilty, we have to make the victims evil in our minds. So witches are evil, because they were the victims of evil.
Part of the reason that I call myself a witch is to bring this terrible history to light. But I also call myself a witch, because in our culture a witch is a powerful woman. I am a powerful woman, but I use that power for good, not evil