Axiomatic Civic Responsibility

I’m looking at the “protesters” in Michigan and ruminating on the nature of civil disobedience versus civic aphasia. By that latter term I mean a condition wherein a blank space exists within the psyché where one would expect an appropriate recognition of responsible behavior ought to live.  A condition which seems to allow certain people to feel empowered to simply ignore—or fail to recognize—the point at which a reflexive rejection of authority should yield to a recognition of community responsibility.  That moment when the impulse to challenge, dismiss, or simply ignore what one is being told enlarges to the point of defiance and what ordinarily would be a responsible acceptance of correct behavior in the face of a public duty. It could be about anything from recycling to voting regularly to paying taxes to obeying directives meant to protect entire populations.

Fairly basic exercises in logic should suffice to define the difference between legitimate civil disobedience and civic aphasia. Questions like: “Who does this serve?” And if the answer is anything other than the community at large, discussion should occur to determine the next step.  The protesters in Michigan probably asked, if they asked at all, a related question that falls short of useful answer:  “How does this serve me?”  Depending on how much information they have in the first place, the answer to that question will be of limited utility, especially in cases of public health.

Another way to look at the difference is this:  is the action taken to defend privilege or to extend it? And to whom?

One factor involved in the current expression of misplaced disobedience has to do with weighing consequences. The governor of the state issues a lockdown in order to stem the rate of infection, person to person. It will last a limited time. When the emergency is over (and it will be over), what rights have been lost except a presumed right to be free of any restraint on personal whim?

There is no right to be free of inconvenience.  At best, we have a right to try to avoid it, diminish it, work around it.  Certainly be angry at it.  But there is no law, no agency, no institution that can enforce a freedom from inconvenience.  For one, it could never be made universal.  For another, “inconvenience” is a rather vague definition which is dependent on context.

And then there is the fact that some inconveniences simply have to be accepted and managed.

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Irresolvable Negotiable Differences of our Culture Wars

Marriage/relationship researcher John Gottman has provided us with a stunning statistic:

"69% of relationship conflict is about perpetual problems. All couples have them — these problems are grounded in the fundamental differences that any two people face. They are either fundamental differences in your personalities that repeatedly create conflict, or fundamental differences in your lifestyle needs.In our research, we concluded that instead of solving their perpetual problems, what seems to be important is whether or not a couple can establish a dialogue about them."

Gottman's research reminds me of the our nation's cultural divide; apparently, we can no longer talk with those we perceive to be different. I don't think we differ from each other nearly as much as the mass media suggests. That said, it seems to me that Gottman's suggested strategies for keeping individual relationships happy and functional are relevant to what we need to do on a national level.

We have forgotten how to talk respectfully to one another, avoiding Gottman's "four horsemen," criticism, contempt, stonewalling, and defensiveness. We have forgotten that being in any functional relationship takes hard work and compromise. I believe that this difficult work has become logarithmically more difficult for two basic reasons: A) tribal ideologies running rampant and B) corporate money gushing through the political system. These two things distort the issues, cause us to create crude cartoons of one another, and permeate the national conversation with fear and loathing of each other.

Barking at each other never brings us any progress. We've seen that for years already. It will take lot of work, soul searching, and looking in the mirror to become more functional on a national level. It will take an act of faith that we can get along if only we worked harder to be civil. This is perhaps too much to ask in an age of widespread magic thinking and diminished attention spans.

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The Importance of Reaching Out to One’s Perceived Enemies

Everyone out there has good stories and lessons to share. It is my faith that it is one of our highest duties as human beings to reach out to connect with other human beings to identify and share those treasures within each other without exception and without judgment. Sometimes it's not easy and it takes some deep breathing to get past crusty exteriors of ourselves and others.

Over the past year I've reached out to have coffee with several local FB Friends who had bristled at my political views (and vice versa). In each case, over a couple hours of conversation we found common concerns and common dreams along with that willingness to connect. Later this week I'm going to join one of those men for coffee again. Aside from his staunch views that many would consider gun-loving libertarian/conservative, he is also a dog lover, brought almost to tears by the thought of dogs who suffer. He is also a dedicated family man, a cancer survivor and a man who, many years ago, pulled himself up (with unfathomable hard work) from a place that would seem to most of us to be an impossibility.

Over the past couple of months, I also reached out to a woman who (I'm certain) gets indigestion when I speak of things like single payor health care. She is a dedicated nurse who, over several decades, worked her way through a dozen challenges that might have crushed many of us. She generously gave me the gift of hours on the phone, during which she invited me to lean hard on her to help me process a situation that felt like an emotional bludgeoning. [More . . . ]

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Rocks, Friendships and the Power of Triangulation

There are so many smart, interesting and kind-hearted people out there! They are everywhere and all you need to do is meet them, but how do you meet them? My friend Dahven has a rule. She assumes that even at a drab party, there is someone else there who has a good story. Dahven reminds herself that she will inevitably come away from every party enriched. She only needs to start her treasure hunt to find that person and to hear that story. She tells me that she has never been disappointed.

But some of us struggle with the task of walking up to talk with strangers. Journalist Kio Stark has made a career out of urging people to talk with strangers and her best technique is triangulation. Simply put, rather than walking up to directly talk to a stranger, identify some interest that you might have in common to talk about, such as the stranger’s dog or a book they are reading. Stark’s TED talk is well worth watching (see also, James Hamblin’s video at The Atlantic--a controlled study in triangulation).

I’ve was reminded how powerful triangulation can be. I’ve recently rekindled a childhood passion: rockhounding. Most people love beautiful rocks and they serve well as objects for triangulation. I recently finished tumbling my first batch of rocks from Missouri creeks. Almost without fail, when I show these smooth colorful tumbled rocks to others, this results in smiles and good conversation. I’ve seen it over. I love rocks, other people tend to love rocks, and I really enjoy getting to know new people.  It’s a winning combination. Rocks are powerful catalysts for social interactions. Here are three quick examples.

#1: After posting my photos of tumbled rocks on FB, I was PM’d by a woman named Patti Kemper, who asked for my house address. Why? She explained that she saw how much I enjoyed rocks and she wanted to send me some exotic rocks that she had found near her home in Las Vegas. A few days later a big box of beautiful rocks, including some raw chalcedony. Wow! Why did Patti send these to me? Because she was delighted to see on FB that I was so excited about tumbled rocks. I’ve also seen this at FB rockhounds groups, where members share in each others’ discoveries and offer each other advice how to identify rocks and where to find new rocks.



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Spontaneous Conversation with Curbside Artist

Martha Ferdinand has been one of my favorite people ever since I began working with her at Arch City Defenders. More recently, we have made a habit of walking briskly through Forest Park while catching up with each other. And, of course, we often contemplate the human condition. We haven’t yet figured that out . . .

Today we took a little side-trip from our planned walk. I spotted a man painting a park scene across the street and suggested to Martha that perhaps it would be fun to go check out his work. Martha nodded, and that’s how we met “Frank James, Curbside Artist.” Frank explained that he has made a living of painting scenes of Tower Grove Park and, more recently, Forest Park. He pulled out other examples of his work from his car: several impressive detailed 30” wide panoramas of park scenes in acrylic paint. Frank offered far more than art today, however. He looked us over and offered an off-the-cuff character analysis of Martha with a big smile and lots of laughs, especially when she agreed that he was somewhat accurate. All of this while smooth music played quietly on his car stereo, but not an entire song. He only liked the first part of that song, so he cut off part where the “irritating” singer began to sing. He loops the pre-vocals beginning of the tune over and over. He explained that this is a significant part of his creative process.



We chatted for awhile about many things, not just painting, but also about his outlook on life, our thoughts on race relations and discussions about music we all enjoy (including Wes Montgomery and George Benson's Breezin’). Good vibes all around.

My friend John Simon often says, “It’s all about relationships.” I agree that this is an excellent default position for understanding almost any life situation. Certainly, my memory of Forest Park on this day will be dominated by the spirited conversations with both Martha and with that ebullient stranger-no-more, “Frank James, Curbside Artist.”

I have a theory too. It seems to me that unplanned spontaneous conversations are often the best, the most memorable. Those who know me well know that it’s hard to hold me back when I get the sense that a quirky

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