Honesty and
Hope (March 10, 2019)
David
Ketchum
One
of the common ways we’ve described our community of faith is that we have given
up dishonest certainty in favor of honest uncertainty. Especially for those of
us who came from fundamentalist religious backgrounds, there was some point in
our spiritual journeys when we turned a corner and made that choice. For me, it
is strange to remember the days when outrageous and outlandish claims appeared
self-evident. There was no need to prove any of them; they felt obviously true.
There were other claims that I accepted more unwillingly, but I accepted them
nonetheless. They seemed to be required, and I was assured that there was a
long history of folks that knew better than me and who had steadfastly believed
in those things. When that internal world crumbled, around 2006 or so, I became
resolute that I would not be duped again.
However,
that requires more diligent practice than I initially guessed. There was a
whole world of outrageous claims to avoid, to be sure. And keeping up on the
ongoing research dedicated to understanding the world takes more than a little
commitment and time. But there was more to it than that. For as long as I could
remember, I had used my dishonest certainty to cope with depressive tendencies.
Embracing honest uncertainty also meant taking seriously my own mental and
emotional well-being that were not possible before. That was great, but it was
also hard work. Along the way, I began exploring the ways that dishonest
certainty helped me cope with both traumatic experiences and the everyday
complexities of life. My local church, the fellowship of dishonest certainty,
had also been my main source of community, not to mention employment. Leaving
that community meant losing networks, relationships, and resources. There was a
lot more uncertainty to embrace than just my beliefs.
Like
all humans, I’ve experienced hardship, from health conditions to traumatic
experiences to economic vulnerability to marginalization and rejection. My
irrational religious beliefs, and the church that went along with them, gave me
something that felt like solid ground to stand on. In my case, that didn’t make
me passive. I found myself most at home among the troublemakers of Christian
history, folks who stood up to injustice, embodied radical compassion, and
insisted that the world could be and would be a different place. I still claim
that history, and see myself as part of it, though the certainty is gone,.
However, being honest about just how far that uncertainty extends into daily
life is, usually, neither comfortable nor easy.
Growing Uncertainties
“Honesty,”
said the poet David Whyte, “is reached by the doorway of grief and loss. Where
we cannot go in our mind, our memory, or our body is where we cannot be
straight with another, our world, or our self.” He goes on to say that -
“Honesty is not the revealing of some foundational
truth that gives us power over life or another or even the self, but a robust
incarnation into the unknown unfolding vulnerability of existence, where we
acknowledge how powerless we feel, how little we actually know, how afraid we
are of not knowing and how astonished we are by the generous measure of loss
that is conferred upon even the most average life.” (https://web.archive.org/web/20160415045433/http://riverbankoftruth.com:80/2013/08/18/honesty-by-david-whyte/ )
In other words, while humans have created
oppressive systems that create a boundless amount of unnecessary suffering,
some amount of suffering and uncertainty is inescapable. Learning to honestly
face the things that make us recoil, experiences and circumstances we feel
compelled to avoid or hide, is a vital part of growing into our full humanity,
“a robust incarnation” into the way things are with a grateful, kind, wisdom.
But
the recoil is real. Against our embrace of honest uncertainty is the fear of
loss and the risk of false hope. There has been a very small subset of human
beings, mostly in places like the United States, who have been able to believe
without question in the inevitable progress and stability of the world. This
has not been a safe assumption for most humans during most of history, with the
only certainties offered to the masses being exclusion, coercion, and
exploitation. And though it seems to be amazingly easy to forget the past
uncertainties, recent years have forced more and more U.S. residents to
remember. Since 2014, researchers at Chapman University in Orange, California
have used an annual survey to document the ways normal folks in the USA have
experienced uncertainty and fear. The topics range from government to natural
disasters to personal anxieties. (https://www.chapman.edu/wilkinson/research-centers/babbie-center/survey-american-fears.aspx )
Over
these last five years, two striking trends are emerging. First, US residents
are becoming more afraid. In 2016, for example, the number one fear in the
nation was held in common by 60.6% of respondents, and the other top fears were
held by no more than 40% of the population. In 2018, the top fear, government corruption,
was shared by 73.6% of the population, and “all the top ten fears were held by
more than half of Americans.” The second trend is rising anxiety due to
environmental concerns. “Not a single environmental concern made the top 10
list in 2016.” In 2018, five of the top 10 were environmental issues. (https://blogs.chapman.edu/wilkinson/2018/10/16/americas-top-fears-2018/ )
And it is no wonder. After all, “The World
Health Organization (WHO) estimates an increase of 250,000 excess deaths per
year between 2030 and 2050 due to the ‘well understood impacts of climate
change.’” (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5984805/ ) And we
already know that environmental catastrophes have a profound and negative
impact on mental health. For example, researchers have documented the
relationship between depression and PTSD with natural disasters, such as
hurricanes. If these disasters occur more frequently, so will the resultant
mental health issues. Similarly, one recent study showed that living with
impacts of climate change has already resulted in “significantly worsened
mental health” for those who lived in impacted regions.
“For each degree of average temperature increase,
mental health worsened by a 2 percent increase in the rate of reported mental
health issues. … extending their findings to the whole US population translates
into nearly 2 million extra people with mental health difficulties in any given
month when the weather is worse.” (https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/experimentations/201810/how-ignore-climate-change )
As
a result, psychologists are now discussing Climate Anxiety as a way to better
understand how climate change exacerbates anxiety and depression. (https://www.resilience.org/stories/2018-09-21/psychologists-explain-our-climate-change-anxiety/ ) In other words, we aren’t just being
pessimistic, and we aren’t making up these impacts. The same could be said of
the other fears on the list, none of which are unreasonable or outrageous. On a
host of urgent issues facing our society, there are sound reasons to feel
concern, outrage, and even fear. And here we are, a community that has
committed itself to honest uncertainty.
In
an era of Climate Anxiety and growing fear, that honesty must include our
struggles to enter into that uncertainty, to acknowledge our relative
powerlessness, and then resolve to keep making decisions and living life in
ways that make a sustainable, just future possible. A failure to do so only
makes us increasingly vulnerable to the very dishonesty that we were certain we
already discarded. A failure to do so makes us increasingly vulnerable to
inaction, either because we avoid the issues that feel overwhelming, or have a
false optimism that everything will turn out okay. Both paths easily lead to
inaction and an accommodation of injustice.
My
own preferred weakness has been despair. I’m not saying I am immune to
optimism, but I can say it has never stuck. It’s become something of a truism
that humanity has the technology to build just and sustainable societies right
now, and has for some time, but it does not yet have the psychology for it. Our
best hope is that we survive as a species long enough for our psychology, and
the related structures and cultures, to catch up. I don’t think that is certain
at all. And yet, I also know that if we give up, there is no chance.
So I drag my discouraged self out, again
and again, to try to do the work of social change. I am not an optimist, but I
have become somewhat skilled at not giving up. I am convinced, with Vaclav
Havel, that “Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but
the certainty that something is worth doing no matter how it turns out.” That
is a type of honest certainty that I can live with.
Adapting the PERMA Model
I
haven’t yet found a really comprehensive tool for intentionally reflecting on
these issues, and western models often seem deficient to me in several key
areas. Martin Seligman’s PERMA model (https://positivepsychologyprogram.com/perma-model/ ), which I’ll
reflect on in just a moment, is no exception. It has too often been used prescriptively,
when, if I understand correctly, it was intended as a descriptive and
theoretical model. It is perhaps too focused on the individual’s psychology and
doesn’t adequately include physical well-being or social systems. And it
generally isn’t oriented around or inclusive enough of the experiences of
oppressed and marginalized communities. (https://www.apa.org/pubs/journals/features/cap-0000036.pdf )
That
being said, I have found it helpful as a reflective practice and a good way to
help me navigate that treacherous strait between naivete and despair. It can
provide a bit of a check-in, helping me notice my discouragement before it
blossoms into depression. And it can be a practical action, something to do
when I don’t feel like I can do something else, or don’t even know what to do.
My
reflections begin with Seligman’s fourth aspect, Meaning. For my
purposes, meaning is about intention and aspiration, what inspires and keeps us
going. We recognize aspiration when we notice our spirit rising, rather than
sinking. For me personally, this means that, when I sit down to meditate, I
begin by remembering my aspirations to experience life with curiosity,
kindness, and gratitude. And then I try to carry those aspirations with me
throughout the day.
This
is closely related to our vision of how society could be. Socially, my
aspirations are oriented around building equality in community, dismantling
oppressive systems, and establishing social relationships that are
non-hierarchical, just, and kind. We spend a lot of time focusing on the things
to resist, and we don’t always have a choice in the matter. We have to notice
and resist oppression and environmental destruction. But Paulo Freire reminded
us that we must announce the new world with as much, or even more, time,
energy, and enthusiasm as we denounce the way things are. This can be
difficult, especially when there is simply so much suffering, but despair is
never closer at hand than when I lose touch with my intentions and aspirations.
We remind ourselves what we are fighting
for, why our effort is important and beautiful, and why we cannot give up.
This connects well with the second aspect, Engagement.
If something happening in the world is feeling particularly overwhelming, it
can be helpful, hopeful, and empowering to do something practical, especially
in cooperation with others, that connects with our aspirations. This can be
tricky, because there is only so much any one of us can do. There is an ongoing
dialog between engagement and equanimity. All of us need rest, all of us need
to work with our limitations, and all of us have to figure out what works for
our own unique selves.
For
example, there is a steady stream of bad news when it comes to the exclusion
and bigotry aimed at queer folk, such as the recent decision by the United
Methodist General Conference to exclude lgbtqia+ folk from leadership positions
and marriage. (https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2019/02/united-methodists-fracture-lgbt-plan-rejected/583693/ )
While the Methodists were getting most
of the news, the first anti-LGBTQ bill of 2019 in Missouri, HB927, was
introduced into the House of Representatives on February 25. This bill would
empower student groups on campus to use their religious beliefs as a cover to
discriminate against lgbtq students. (https://legiscan.com/MO/text/HB927/id/1911562 )
There
seems to be no end to this kind of thing, and it can be overwhelming. So, in
addition to supporting and participating in organizations like the ACLU, I help
facilitate local transgender/nonbinary support groups. This is often both
exhausting, requiring a a lot of time and a great deal of emotional and
physical energy, and energizing, making a space to intentionally and lovingly
accept and show care for one another. And even though the conversations and
situations can be heavy, there is also joy. I know that this work isn’t going
to solve everything, but it keeps me engaged, reminds me that my identity and
well-being are real, important, and beautiful, no matter what terrible news
might come my way.
And
Engagement like this also brings us into community, into Relationships that
can sustain us. Most of you already know my stories of growing up as a queer
person in southwest Missouri, overflowing with internalized oppression. Last
June, a straight friend from out of town joined me here to celebrate Pridefest.
And, as I was introducing him to folks and he was slowly realizing he was
completely surrounded by queer folk for the first time in his life, I gradually
realized just how many wonderful friendships I had in the lgbtq community. That
may not sound like a big deal, but it was. When we moved back to this area in
2010, I felt increasingly isolated.
Getting involved with activities and
organizations advocating for lgbtq rights and well-being, made it possible to
find a larger network of friends, fellow activists, and allies than I had
dreamed possible. I still remember the joy and relief of sitting in a room for
the first time and realizing that all of us there were both nonbinary and on
the asexual spectrum, and we didn’t have to explain anything to each other.
There
is a parallel experience for most of us when we gather together here, where we
can unite around the crucial social justice issues of the day without argument.
We know that black lives matter and native lives matter. We stand on the side
of immigrants and refugees. We work for economic dignity and justice and insist
on the value of labor, against the insatiable greed of those who hoard wealth
and power. We believe that education, health care, and housing are human
rights, and that our policies and communities should reflect this. We know that
women’s, and lgbtq rights, are human rights. And we know that our well-being
and our very survival as a planet necessitates caring for the earth, restoring
ecosystems, and creating sustainable, regenerative societies. Because we share
these convictions, and others like them, we can relate with each other much
more freely. We are not all best friends, but I trust you more readily, and I
am really happy when we get to know each other a little better.
There’s a lot more to be said about relationships, but
since I’m preaching about social rejection in April, I’ll leave it at that
today. Instead, let’s focus on the role of cultivating Positive Emotion and
recognizing Accomplisments. I like to think about positive emotion in
terms of gratitude and goodwill. Too often, positive psychology as it has been
popularly presented has fallen short when it comes to addressing issues and
populations related to oppression and social justice. (https://www.apa.org/pubs/journals/features/cap-0000036.pdf ) It is too
easy to talk about positive emotion in such a way that folks feel obligated to
try and create these emotions, which can feel all the more frustrating in
situations of injustice. A wide range of emotions are appropriate responses to
the suffering of a the world, including anger and grief. We move forward
through those emotions, not by denying them.
Yet
it is also true that an emotion like anger isn’t the only emotion we feel, and,
at least for me, it is not an emotion that sustains either my activism or my
well-being. But when I am in touch with my aspirations, or when I engage in
meaningful actions alongside people I care about, gratitude and goodwill arise
quite naturally. We don’t have to force anything; we can just recognize it and
enjoy those moments.
We
need the relief that comes with joy. When we are dealing with stressful,
depressing circumstances, we can quite easily be carried along by our
negativity bias.
And it is easy to fall into the trap of
identifying only with those stressors, to the neglect of everything else. So we
need to take special care to recognize and savor the times when pleasure and
joy break through. We need to intentionally recognize gratitude when we feel
it, and take time to enjoy and express that feeling. Similarly, when I feel the
tug of despair, I pause to connect with goodwill and kindness. My actions can
be an expression of love for all of us who live on planet Earth, now and in the
future. Gratitude and goodwill are much better motivators for me. They energize
me and, even if they don’t make me optimistic, they do make me want to go on
and not give up.
And
this is true for all the ways, little and large, that bring us closer to this
more sustainable, just, and caring world. When the obstacles are so large and
the journey is so long, we need to really celebrate Accomplishments along
the way. Back in 1984, Karl Weick pointed out that conceiving of social change
on a “massive scale” could actually be counterproductive. Anticipating the
problem we began with today, Weick said that -
“People often define social problems in ways that
overwhelm their ability to do anything about them. … When social problems are
described this way, efforts to convey their gravity disable the very resources
of thought and action necessary to change them. When the magnitude of problems
is scaled upward in the interest of mobilizing action, the quality of thought
and action declines, because processes such as frustration, arousal, and
helplessness are activated.” (http://homepages.se.edu/cvonbergen/files/2013/01/Small-Wins_Redefining-the-Scale-of-Social-Problems.pdf )
In
contrast, focusing on -
“a small win has an immediacy, tangibility, and
controllability that could reverse these effects. … By itself, one small win
may seem unimportant. A series of wins at small but significant tasks, however,
reveals a pattern that may attract allies, deter opponents, and lower
resistance to subsequent proposals.” (ibid.)
This is how we build movements. This is how we
build community. Practically speaking, this necessitates processes like
strategic planning and action-reflection, which have their own skill sets. But
the principle is simple: identify your goal; make a plan; break it up into
small, manageable steps; celebrate even the little accomplishments; and make
adjustments to keep you on track. Human psychology seems to thrive on these
kinds of baby steps.
In one study of workplace moods and
activities, researchers
“generated 12,000 person-days of data on moods and
activities at work. The striking conclusion is that a sense of incremental
progress is vastly more important to happiness than either a grand mission or
financial incentives … . Small wins ‘had a surprisingly strong positive effect,
and small losses a surprisingly strong negative one.’” (https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2011/sep/09/change-life-small-victories-burkeman )
Anyone
who knows the satisfaction of marking something off on a to-do list knows
exactly what’s being said here. We need to be realistic, yes, and acknowledge
that the small acts we do are not sufficient to change everything in the world
that needs to be changed. But our realism must also include human psychology,
and it is very likely that we will find our greatest motivation and
encouragement to keep doing the hard work of social change when we take the
time to recognize and celebrate - even, and perhaps especially, the small
accomplishments.
One Another and Ourselves
All
of this is to say that, while we cannot offer guarantees, we can offer
ourselves. We can refuse the easy pathways of inaction. We can even, sometimes
and perhaps in small doses, honestly face the overwhelming difficulties we face
as a society. And we can act. We can offer: patience as we wrestle with
powerlessness, courage as we let go of ignorance, and love as we move through
loss. We can face uncertainty with honesty and grace. We can stay grounded in
our best aspirations, and we can live out our convictions: without guarantees,
but with faithfulness to the best visions within us for communities that are
wise and kind.
