#21 More than a Critic
I grew up in the fifties and sixties, in a period of hopeful expansion of the American Dream. Coming of age in the Vietnam War era, I joined others in probing beneath that complacent surface, and found more and more--in the economy, the environment, our relations to poor countries--that was not well. We were being lied to. I became a confirmed critic. With such powerful voices saying that we were blemish-free and blameless, it seemed vital to shout out the part of the story that wasn’t being told. My conscience was clear; I knew what I was saying was true.
Now we are in a similar tumultuous time, yet I am not the same.
After the break-up of the Soviet Union, one of my political mentors came back from a trip to Russia with a perspective new to both of us. “They have no history of volunteerism,” he said, “no experience organizing themselves.” I had never even considered that this was something to be had or not had. Deciding to get together to pursue some common task seemed as natural as breathing. Yet if the state did everything, I could see how citizen initiative might not develop.
This offered perspective on the some arguments we were having with a friend from Poland. Though we had much in common politically, he simple wouldn’t enter in to our wholesale critique of our country’s motives and values, and argued that there were many things Poland could learn from the U.S. Where we were concerned about profit-making gone wild, he saw entrepreneurship and private business initiative as necessary parts of a healthy economy.
At about the same time, a woman we knew from the Netherlands, a fiercely loyal member of the minority language group and an acute observer of oppression, spoke of her love for the United States. “I feel free in the U.S. in a way I have never felt free at home. There is space for me. Everything is organized so closely at home; everyone is expected to fit in.” I had never really thought about this space that seems so natural.
More recently, I was taking a walk in our part of Philadelphia with a woman from London. She appreciated all the things that I love--the architecture, the big trees, the diversity of class and race. But she also saw things that had been invisible to me – in the community vegetable garden that had grown so organically over the years, the neighborhood association’s little park on a corner lot, the plantings along the entrance to a transit tunnel that a garden group had put in. I knew the history of these places, but I had taken their roots, their seemingly natural ability to grow and flourish outside any formal system, for granted. She did not.
Volunteerism, opportunities to make different choices, citizen initiative, a belief that people can get together and make things happen--I’m finally learning that these are not just automatic attributes of any organized society. They are perspectives and skills and attitudes that have grown and flourished in the particular soil of our culture. They may flourish in others places too, but in many they do not. Wherever they are found, they are to be cherished.
So my job as a critic of our society has become more complex--but much more interesting. I still see all that is not well here, in the arrogance of power, the deep inequalities, the worship of private profit that skews our values and our institutions. But now I cringe when I hear hatred and wholesale disgust in the tone of fellow critics. And I find a way to connect with the fierce loyalty of uncritical patriots. I disagree with much of what they say, but something in their passion about protecting treasured values rings true.
A friend was despairing recently about the erosion of rights that has followed 9/11, seeing no way forward. My mind turned to the new Constitution Center in Philadelphia. Why not promote love of the rights it protects? Our democracy is lurching under a two party system dominated by moneyed interests. Yet I would stand with what is right about democracy and explore the exciting potential of run-off systems that could give smaller parties of conscience a real voice.
We need the courage to look clearly at what is wrong in the people and institutions that surround us. But we also need to see what is right in them. All the critics in the world, no matter how accurate or active, are not enough to create change. Ultimately, I have come to believe, we cannot transform anything or anybody that we cannot love.
Pamela Haines
5/04
Now we are in a similar tumultuous time, yet I am not the same.
After the break-up of the Soviet Union, one of my political mentors came back from a trip to Russia with a perspective new to both of us. “They have no history of volunteerism,” he said, “no experience organizing themselves.” I had never even considered that this was something to be had or not had. Deciding to get together to pursue some common task seemed as natural as breathing. Yet if the state did everything, I could see how citizen initiative might not develop.
This offered perspective on the some arguments we were having with a friend from Poland. Though we had much in common politically, he simple wouldn’t enter in to our wholesale critique of our country’s motives and values, and argued that there were many things Poland could learn from the U.S. Where we were concerned about profit-making gone wild, he saw entrepreneurship and private business initiative as necessary parts of a healthy economy.
At about the same time, a woman we knew from the Netherlands, a fiercely loyal member of the minority language group and an acute observer of oppression, spoke of her love for the United States. “I feel free in the U.S. in a way I have never felt free at home. There is space for me. Everything is organized so closely at home; everyone is expected to fit in.” I had never really thought about this space that seems so natural.
More recently, I was taking a walk in our part of Philadelphia with a woman from London. She appreciated all the things that I love--the architecture, the big trees, the diversity of class and race. But she also saw things that had been invisible to me – in the community vegetable garden that had grown so organically over the years, the neighborhood association’s little park on a corner lot, the plantings along the entrance to a transit tunnel that a garden group had put in. I knew the history of these places, but I had taken their roots, their seemingly natural ability to grow and flourish outside any formal system, for granted. She did not.
Volunteerism, opportunities to make different choices, citizen initiative, a belief that people can get together and make things happen--I’m finally learning that these are not just automatic attributes of any organized society. They are perspectives and skills and attitudes that have grown and flourished in the particular soil of our culture. They may flourish in others places too, but in many they do not. Wherever they are found, they are to be cherished.
So my job as a critic of our society has become more complex--but much more interesting. I still see all that is not well here, in the arrogance of power, the deep inequalities, the worship of private profit that skews our values and our institutions. But now I cringe when I hear hatred and wholesale disgust in the tone of fellow critics. And I find a way to connect with the fierce loyalty of uncritical patriots. I disagree with much of what they say, but something in their passion about protecting treasured values rings true.
A friend was despairing recently about the erosion of rights that has followed 9/11, seeing no way forward. My mind turned to the new Constitution Center in Philadelphia. Why not promote love of the rights it protects? Our democracy is lurching under a two party system dominated by moneyed interests. Yet I would stand with what is right about democracy and explore the exciting potential of run-off systems that could give smaller parties of conscience a real voice.
We need the courage to look clearly at what is wrong in the people and institutions that surround us. But we also need to see what is right in them. All the critics in the world, no matter how accurate or active, are not enough to create change. Ultimately, I have come to believe, we cannot transform anything or anybody that we cannot love.
Pamela Haines
5/04
posted by Pamela Haines | 6:21 PM
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