May 13, 2004 – What Do I Do Now?
When I was growing up, there was a poster in my family’s kitchen: I believe my mother got it from a yard sale. It was this very loud yellow color, with a black flower on it. The phrase “war is not healthy for children and other living things” accompanied the picture of the simple flower. Later, this poster moved from my mother’s kitchen to my Grandmother’s room when she was hospitalized in her later years after a stroke. This poster was one of the three things I took from my Grandmother’s room after she died. This poster, in one short sentence, sums up my general sentiment on the use of force, and the ability of violence to really solve problems. I do not think you can force someone into a belief system, that the threat of violence only creates resentment and anger, and that once force is used, it takes a Herculean effort to return to more thoughtful methods of dispute resolution.
Nevertheless, while I believe violence is no way to solve problems, the realist in me knows that sometimes, no matter how hard you want to avoid it, there is no choice but to fight, no matter your preference for pacifism. There are times when you must rise up to either fight for what you believe in, or defend what you hold dear. That is why another one of my favorite sayings is the following, courtesy of Dante:
“the hottest place in hell is reserved for those who, in times of moral crisis, remain neutral.”
This saying was on a shirt I purchased while I was at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC. I have had it for a few years now, and though I never wear it, I do bring it out on occasion to remind myself of the consequences of doing nothing when circumstances dictate that something must be done. My personal moral compass, which is a reflection of both how I was raised and the experiences of my life, dictates that I have no choice but to speak up when I see an injustice occurring. In great part, this is why I developed this site. We all need to have our voices heard, and we all need to fulfill our obligations to each other by being an advocate, a protestor, a persuader, and a problem solver.
I turn 40 tomorrow, and my parents have given me a wonderful gift: they have had the poster properly framed and preserved, and taken the saying so artfully placed in the T-shirt and framed it as well. The question I have now is whether or not it is even worth the effort to place them on my walls. Because, while I still believe these sentiments, I am beginning to doubt whether mankind is worthy of the thought and effort that goes behind either saying. These past few weeks have demonstrated, in graphic detail, that many of us, regardless of where we live or how we are raised, lack a basic moral compass that would either allow us to recognize the carnage of war, or the existence of a moral crises.
By now, everyone is well aware of the escalating violence in Iraq, the abhorrent treatment of Iraqi and Afghani prisoners, and the taped beheading of an American civilian. A few nights ago, I forced myself to watch part of the beheading, I believed I owed the dead man at least a moment of my time to acknowledge his death, no matter how vile the moment was. While I turned off the picture after only a moment, it took me hours to recover from the realization that this was not some special effect, or some turkey being carved at Thanksgiving, but one man taking a knife and using it to saw off the head of another. The more I thought about it, the more I just wanted to cry, and I did for a bit. Forget the Bush v, Kerry argument, forget the war on terrorism, forget religion, forget it all – just answer me this question which I no longer know the answer to: are we a race worth saving?
It has been a long time since I have felt this helpless and disgusted by the human race. The only time I can recall feeling like this was during the Los Angeles riots after the Rodney King Verdict – watching Reginald Denny getting his head smashed in by a brick, and frantically calling 911 and asking someone, anyone to help him. Help eventually came, in the form of some courageous local men and women who ran into the melee to save someone they did not know. Now, such moral courage and moral certainty seems gone, lost amidst the cycle of violence and rhetoric of hate enveloping us. All I can think of is whether anyone is going to jump into the fray now? And if you were to jump, where would you start? How can you intervene when the “good guys” are torturing and humiliating prisoners of war, while the “bad guys” decapitate innocent civilians, and then hold up the severed head like a bowling trophy? More importantly, are we as a species even worth the effort of saving? For the first time in my life, I have almost answered this question with the word “No.”
Dante’s quote references a moral crisis. But, how to you even try to respond in times of moral crises when everywhere you look, morality is gone. We are becoming terrorists to fight terror, innocents are being decapitated in the name of God, planes fly into buildings, and trains explode carrying those doing their daily commute. Whose morals am I supposed to look to as a guidepost? Mine certainly do not seem to reflect the world in which I live: my government has abandoned its morals in an ends justifying the means process of fighting terrorism (which is not working, and only creating more terrorists, but that is for another rant), and many organized religions use their interpretation of morality as a weapon to control the thoughts and actions of others. I certainly cannot embrace the morals of those who would behead an innocent civilian or blow up an abortion clinic in the name of their God. Similarly, I cannot embrace the morals of my government, as it tries to force its view of democracy onto a nation that did not ask for the help. I might as well open up a phonebook, pick a person at random, someone, anyone, and rely on his or her morals.
Which leads me to my current dilemma; what do I do now. If we cannot even find common ground as a race on basic moral issues, then how can we expect anyone to step in to help save us now from ourselves? At what point do I say enough, no more. Maybe it is just time to fold up my tent, open up a bottle of red wine, and not give a damn about anyone else, because that seems to be the morality of our time. Maybe it is time I stop flailing my arms trying to get someone, anyone to realize that we have so much more in common with each other than we have differences. Maybe it is time to say there is nothing left to fight for. I am tired of caring so much. Maybe it is someone else’s turn to give a damn, because I am just about empty.
But you know, and I know, that, for better or worse, I cannot do this. And, neither can you. I cannot permit my morality to be compromised or dictated by the will of others. So, I keep plodding along. Flailing around as I try to do some good in this world, all the while not so sure that the world is really worth the effort. I have no choice. This is who I am. I was raised to believe that each of us can make this world a better place; that you must treat people the same way as you would like to be treated; that reason can prevail over force; that given the chance, we as a people are kind and decent, and will extend a hand in aid to another in need; that every human life is precious.
“War is not healthy for children and other living things.”
“The hottest place in hell is reserved for those who, in times of moral crisis, remain neutral.”
Say it, and then repeat. And then say it again. This is my morality, and this is what I must continue to fight for. Perhaps, if I am lucky, I can do this enough to once again believe any of it will make a difference.