Tag: martin luther king

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Hope and Courage in Tough Times

Fresno Bee, October 13, 2024

In these tumultuous times, it is easy to become fearful and lose hope. Wars are spreading. Hurricanes and heat waves show that climate change is happening. The vitriol of the fall election season portends an ugly winter to come. People seem angry, grumpy and mean.

In dark times, it is tempting to abandon hope and retreat in fear to a bunker. But if we do that, things will surely get worse. When the world turns nasty, good people need to remain engaged, hopeful and courageous.

Hope alone is not sufficient. In a recent column in the LA Times, Anna Jane Joyner pointed out that hope is not a strategy for dealing with climate change — hope won’t reduce emissions or heal the atmosphere, nor will it bring back lives lost in wars and hurricanes. Joyner concluded her piece with a quote from climate scientist Kate Marvel: “We need courage, not hope, to face climate change.”

But rather than saying we need courage instead of hope, we should emphasize their interconnection. Courageous people hope that their bravery will pay off. And hope can help us discover the courage to struggle on.

This point is well known. In the 19th century, the British critic Matthew Arnold said: “Wise men everywhere know that we must keep up our courage and our hope.” And Martin Luther King, Jr. explained: “If you lose hope, you lose that vitality that keeps life moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of all.”

Without courage and other virtues, hope is feckless and naïve — it can imply a kind of passivity. An optimist who relies entirely on hope may do nothing to make the world better. Too much hope can undermine agency and responsible action.

But if an overabundance of hope is problematic, so, too, is hopelessness. Hopeless people also fail to work responsibly for the future. Gloomy pessimists mope about expecting things to fall apart. And since the pessimist does nothing to make things better, the world usually does end up worse.

Virtuous hope lies somewhere in the middle, occurring at the right time, and in the right amount. Some of this depends on the world. Virtuous hope should respond to the facts. False hope denies the facts. False hope can be dangerously disconnected from reality. But the same is true of false despair, which fails to see opportunities for change in the world of facts.

Rather than letting the facts be a drag on the spirit, virtuous and hopeful people imagine what is possible.

Virtues do not occur in isolation. Rather, they are part of a complex web of habits, attitudes and values. In an emergency you need courage, strength and quick wit in addition to hope. In life as a whole, you also need honesty, moderation, compassion, good humor and a sense of justice.

The virtuous duo of courage and hope are essential in business, sports and education. They are crucial for social movements and important for human health and well-being.

In his book, “Man’s Search for Meaning,” Viktor Frankl recounted how, after losing hope, his fellow concentration camp inmates fell sick and died. Frankl explained that “those who know how close the connection is between the state of mind of a man — his courage and hope, or lack of them — and the state of immunity of his body will understand that the sudden loss of hope and courage can have a deadly effect.”

Hope and courage don’t come easy in trying times. To develop them is a lifelong task. It helps to learn from role models like King and Frankl, and it to surround yourself with courageous and hopeful people. Remember that, ultimately, your virtue is up to you. The world is responsive to hopeful, courageous and creative energy. This does not mean that hope magically makes things better, but reality can be changed by intelligent and responsible people who apply their agency with courage and hope.

Retreating to the bunker won’t make things better. For things to improve, we must confront the facts courageously, and get to work creating the kind of world we hope for.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article293773979.html#storylink=cpy

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Revenge is wrong

Fresno Bee, June 16, 2024

Donald Trump recently said, “Sometimes revenge can be justified.” He was responding to a prompt from Dr. Phil, who had quoted Pope Francis on the importance of forgiveness and overcoming resentment. Despite this prompting, Trump opted for revenge.

Some Trumpians may agree that Trump would be justified in seeking revenge against his enemies. And of course, there is an open question about what Trump’s vengeance would look like. In the Dr. Phil interview, Trump said he was hoping for “revenge through success.” Maybe he merely means that electoral victory would be a kind of revenge.

But left-wing pundits have pounced on Trump’s remarks, warning that Trumpism has devolved into a cult of personal vendettas. And in fact, revenge has long been essential to the Trump brand. Long before he ran for president, Trump said, “Always get even. When somebody screws you, you screw them back in spades.”

This idea is immoral. Most adults agree that “two wrongs don’t make a right.” The world’s religious and philosophical traditions counsel against revenge. And many agree with the Pope’s plea for forgiveness and love.

Some go so far as to agree with Jesus about the need to evolve beyond retribution and vengeance. Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist one who is evil. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”

The retributive idea of eye for eye, tooth for tooth, may appear to have something in common with revenge. But revenge is wildly emotional and often exceeds the limits of retaliation. Retributive justice imposes strict limits on what can be done in return for wrongdoing. Only one eye for one eye—and no more.

The excessiveness of revenge is one of the reasons that criminal justice has nothing to do with it. Criminal justice is not meant to carry out personal vendettas. Rather, it is enacted by legitimate public authorities by due process. Punishments established by law are not intended to satisfy a victim’s desire for vengeance. Rather, these punishments are limited, rational, and calmly and deliberately imposed.

These limits are essential for overcoming cycles of violence and revenge. Revenge is emotional and often disproportionate. The desire for revenge quickly escalates violence. And let’s admit it, revenge fantasies can be fun. The Greek poet Homer said that the desire for revenge was like honey for the soul. This is why revenge may also be addictive, as Dr. Phil said in his interview with Trump. Resentful people seem to enjoy brooding over their injuries and plotting vengeance.

The unreasonable and emotionally excessive nature of revenge leads most philosophers to condemn it. Plato distinguished justice from the “unreasoning vengeance of a wild beast.” Four hundred years ago, Francis Bacon described revenge in similar terms as “wild justice.” He thought civilized law ought to “weed out” revenge.

Among the arguments against revenge is the idea that revenge harms those who seek it. This is the meaning of an old proverb that says, “When you seek revenge, dig two graves.” The Dalai Lama has said something similar, “Indulgence in resentment and vengeance will only further and increase miseries for oneself and others.”

The idea that revenge rebounds and hurts the one seeking it is a common theme in literature. Captain Ahab’s desire for revenge against Moby Dick leads to his doom. And Hamlet ends up dead at the end of his mad quest for revenge.

Another problem is that the spirit of revenge dwells on the pain of the wrongful deed. Bacon said, “A man that studies revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal.” Revenge broods over the past wrong. It prevents us from healing, reconciling, and moving forward.

Forgiveness and love work otherwise. Martin Luther King explained, “Man must evolve a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.” This does not mean that we give up on justice. Wrongs must be redressed. But enlightenment is found beyond the noxious spirit of vengeance and the idea that revenge can be justified.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/article289246125.html#storylink=cpy

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Finding Hope Beyond the Political

Or Why We Need Philosophy, Religion, and Art

Political life is limited and ultimately unsatisfying.  When we focus on the external and horizontal dimension of political life, we are bound to be frustrated.  But there are other dimensions and sources of meaning, beyond the political.

The despair of the political

The world is unjust.  Good people often suffer in misery and obscurity.  And bad folks become rich and powerful.  The social and political world is messy and frustrating.  Our imagined ideals fail to become real.  And although progress can be made, there is backlash and unfulfilled expectations. 

We inherit a broken world that conflicts with our idealism.  The dream of justice runs aground on the shards of these fragments.  The more we want to repair these ruins, the more hopeless things appear.  We also disagree about who ruined this world, why it is broken, and how it ought to be fixed. 

This sense of grievance and longing explains why the passion of the political can become shrill, dogmatic, and polarizing.  Political intensity feeds off dissatisfaction.  And when these deep emotions are frustrated long enough, there is the risk of despair.  The passion of the political dwells in the thought that if these ruins cannot be repaired, all is lost. 

Clinging to hope

To fight the despair that haunts politics, political rhetoric is often infused with what Barack Obama called “the audacity of hope.”  The best and most inspiring political speech reminds us of an imagined future in which the ideal will be actualized.

Martin Luther King, Jr. provides a well-known example.  He was aware of the problem of political despair.  In response to the disappointments of the civil rights movement, King said, , “The only healthy answer lies in one’s honest recognition of disappointment even as he still clings to hope, one’s acceptance of finite disappointment even while clinging to infinite hope.”  And: “Our most fruitful course is to stand firm, move forward nonviolently, accept disappointments and cling to hope.”

King warned that disappointment in the face of injustice can lead to bitterness, self-pity, cynicism, nihilism, and other “poisons” of the soul.  His remedy was to “cling to hope.”  This phrase is interesting.  To cling is to hold on, to try to remain committed, even as the storm rages.

Thinking in more than one dimension

As a Christian, King found a source of hope beyond the storm.  King’s hope was oriented toward another dimension, a source of meaning that exists in a realm beyond the political.  This is what Rev. Jeremiah Wright (who inspired Obama’s idea of the audacity of hope) called “the vertical dimension.”

Politics is one dimensional.  It views the self and the other on a merely horizontal dimension, failing to take into account other dimensions of life and experience.   This is bound to be dissatisfying because human beings live in more than one dimension. 

The vertical dimension is often understood in religious terms, as an axis oriented toward the divine.  But secular folks can also discover an inner dimension connected with love, beauty, or other sources of meaning found in the human experience.  The most important of these non-political axes are called art, religion, and philosophy (borrowing a set of concepts from Hegel). 

Now there is a tendency among some thoroughly political (or politicized) folks to reduce art, religion, and philosophy to politics.  Marxists explain the “ideological” in terms of material and economic conditions.  Feminists and race-conscious theorists also sometimes interpret art, religion, and philosophy from a liberatory framework.  Conservatives do this as well, when they think that art, religion, and philosophy ought to support some preferred nationalistic ideal. 

But the wonder of art, religion, and philosophy is that they burst the bounds of any politicized and reductive account of human reality.  The artist, the mystic, and the sage exist in a different dimension, oriented toward values and ideas that are not reducible to questions of justice or power. 

The example of comedy and tragedy

This may sound abstract.  So let’s consider two familiar artforms: the comedic and the tragic.  Comedy can be political.  It can be used both to liberate and to oppress.  But sometimes the comedic reveals the absurdity of existence.  And laughter can be an end-in-itself. 

Tragedy can also be employed for political purposes: to tell a story about oppression or the “triumph of the will.”  But tragedy also transcends the political.  It makes us shudder to wonder about death, evil, pride, murder, and betrayal.  Sophocles has the chorus say in Antigone (line 332): There are terrors and wonders on earth, and none is more terrible or wonderful than we humans. 

When a comedic artist reveals absurdity, we are directed beyond the political dimension toward broader reflection on the human condition.  When we laugh, and play along, we are engaged in a world of imagination, on a dimension apart from the political. The same is true, when we are moved by tragedy to see the terror and the wonder of human existence.  This act of imagination gives us a glimpse of a dimension of experience that is beyond the political. 

This act of imagination can be a source of hope, repair, and reconciliation.  It can also renew the spirit and gives us the energy to return to our struggles with better perspective, and a clearer sense of self. 

Hope beyond politics

Now a critic may suggest that this experience of transcendence comes from a position of “privilege” that is conveniently able to ignore the challenges of political reality.  But the move beyond the political is not an excuse for political indifference.  We are political animals, as Aristotle said.  And we cannot simply ignore injustice and the struggles of political life. 

But we all possess the power of human imagination.  And we can all find consolation and hope when we open our minds to those other dimensions of human experience that transcend the political.

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The Folly of Political Violence

Fresno Bee, November 6, 2022

Political violence does not work. And yet some people think it does. Some political violence is the result of delusional people on a rampage. But many sane people still believe in its efficacy.

Consider the appalling case of the attack on House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband in San Francisco. The attacker wanted to send a political message. But he ended up in jail. The real message here is that violence is wrong, and a danger to our democracy.

Or consider any of a long list of examples. The riots of Jan. 6 failed to achieve their objective of overturning the 2020 election. The attacks of 9/11 failed to drive the U.S. out of the Middle East. The assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. failed to stop the Civil Rights movement.

We could look back further. Lincoln’s assassination failed to stop the abolition of slavery or keep the North from winning the war. And even further back, the assassination of Julius Caesar failed to stop Rome from becoming an empire. The killing of Jesus of Nazareth did not stop Christianity from becoming one of the world’s largest religions. And killing Socrates did not stop philosophy.

I’ve simplified things here, quite a bit. There is often no single motive behind political violence. And sometimes the motive is lost in madness and mystery. We don’t really know why Oswald killed Kennedy, which is why conspiracy theories linger. Surely some of those who murdered Caesar were playing power games. And Socrates was killed by Athenians seeking a scapegoat after losing a war.

But the bottom line is that killing an individual does not stop a movement, a system or an idea. Violence does not change people’s minds about truth, justice, or morality. Minds are changed through education and argument. Substantial changes in law and politics require negotiation and compromise, as well dialogue and deliberation.

The focal point of political violence is on the moment and the act. It is “spectacular,” as I explained in more detail in a book I wrote about nonviolence. Violence attracts our attention. It is an explosive and unexpected outburst that disrupts things. Violent acts provoke responses. But the response rarely unfolds as the attacker wants it to. The attacker controls the moment. But the system and society control the response.

The feverish imagination of violence is episodic and individualistic. The assassin imagines that if he kills person X, everything will change. But that is a misunderstanding of how life and politics work. The daily grind of political life is not spectacular. It does not occur in explosive moments and exciting episodes. Rather, it involves the boring work of persuasion and coalition building.

Ideas, laws, and movements are larger than persons. If person X is eliminated, there will be Y and Z who are committed to the same ideas. And if X is murdered, her followers will be angry and even more committed to the cause.

We forget this because we’ve been taught a version of history that focuses on the biographies of great men and women. We blame Nazism on Hitler, for example. But if Hitler had been killed, the Nazi party would not have crumbled overnight.

The history of Christianity provides an interesting example. The leaders of the Christian movement were murdered by the Romans. Jesus was crucified, as was Peter. And Paul was beheaded. Many martyrs were killed after them. But the movement continued to grow.

Things are more complicated in the case of wars and revolutions. But again, these things rarely work out as planned. The 20-year war in Afghanistan reminds us of that. Violence and war are unpredictable. And it is ideas and systems that matter.

The American revolution is often held up as a paradigm of effective violence. But was it the violence that mattered — or the ideas that were fought for? And would those ideas have endured even if the revolution had failed?

Martin Luther King Jr. said, “in spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem: it merely creates new and more complicated ones.” Human problems need humane solutions. Violence operates in the realm of animal power and physical force. It is subhuman and inarticulate. And it usually makes things worse.

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The Wisdom of Nonviolence

Fresno Bee, October 3, 2021

Violence is increasing. Domestic terrorism is rising, including threats against members of Congress. The FBI just published its annual report on crime. The bad news is that violent crime is on the rise.

So let’s reflect on the dumbness of violence. Violence produces bad outcomes. It is also dumb in a metaphorical sense. Violence does not speak, it growls. Like a roaring lion, it does not argue. It merely threatens and attacks.

Violence can be spectacular. It attracts our attention. But violence does not really seek to persuade. Persuasion requires an argument. Violent acts are not arguments. That’s why violence does not create or convert.

The ugly truth about violence is well-known. Gandhi explained it. So did Martin Luther King, Jr. Both advocated nonviolence as the higher road.

Oct. 2 marks Gandhi’s birthday and is an International Day of Nonviolence. Gandhi said that even when violence appears to do good, that is merely temporary. Nonviolence creates lasting change because, as Gandhi explained, nonviolence is a “process of conversion.” Instead of destroying those you hate, nonviolence builds bridges and finds common ground.

Gandhi demonstrated that organized nonviolence can be a powerful force for change. Martin Luther King Jr. put this method to work in the United States.

In his Nobel Peace Prize lecture in 1964, King explained the critique of violence this way: “In spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem: it merely creates new and more complicated ones. Violence is impractical because it is a descending spiral ending in destruction for all.”

This truth is reaffirmed as we reflect on the aftermath of the war on terrorism. After 20 years of war, we wonder whether the war was worth the cost. The war in Afghanistan teaches us that violence is a blunt instrument for transforming hearts and minds.

The “Costs of War” project at Brown University provides a recent summary. Totaling deaths from Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and elsewhere, they estimate that almost 930,000 people were killed in the war on terrorism. This includes over 7,000 American military personnel. About 38 million people were displaced as war refugees. The war is estimated to have cost $8 trillion.

We did kill Osama bin Laden and other terrorist masterminds. But terrorists still lurk in the shadows. And the Taliban quickly returned to power. The war did not resolve the social, political, and cultural problems that give rise to terrorism and oppressive regimes such as the Taliban.

War is a destructive force that breeds reactive antagonism. It does not educate, democratize, or humanize. Political violence does not create just or lasting change. Rather, it destabilizes and provokes, causing polarization and pain.

This truth about war and violence is easily overlooked. There is a primal urge to employ violence. We are animals after all. Like the lion, we roar. When pushed, we attack.

The world’s moral traditions teach us to subdue the lion within. We are not merely animals, after all. We are human beings. We can learn to “turn the other cheek” and resist animal aggression. This is the message of Jesus and the Buddha, as well as Gandhi and King.

Our own culture often ignores this message. We celebrate violence. Pop culture is full of gangsters and cops, super-spies and superheroes. Our culture encourages us to falsely believe that might makes right and that in the end the good guys are justified in using violence.

But we are not superheroes. We are fragile and flawed beings. And unlike in a James Bond fantasy, real lives are destroyed when we uncage the lion.

The good news is that we are intelligent beings. We can learn from our mistakes. Violence involves a kind of smug self-certainty. It fails because it treats other human beings as animals and objects to be manipulated by physical force. But human beings are not persuaded by violence. We are motivated by pride and love, reason and morality.

Nonviolence is not always effective. But in the long run it is wiser to keep the lion in his cage. Nonviolence appeals to the better angels of our nature. It treats human beings with the care and respect we deserve.