An online news story today discusses the widely varied sentences for parents who leave their very young children unattended in hot cars, resulting in death. Mothers are punished more severely than fathers, and paid caregivers are more likely to be prosecuted and punished than parents. Only about half the cases are prosecuted, because it is nearly always accidental, but half are seen as victims themselves and the other half as perpetrators by neglect.
Are fathers “excused” more often because they aren’t considered primary caregivers and get a pass when they forget something important—like taking their children out of hot cars? Are mothers pursued more vigorously because they should know better, or because their failures challenge our culturally iconic myth of motherly love?
Are paid caregivers treated more severely because they are paid? Because that pay is pretty low in most circumstances. Are they punished more because the exaggerated outrage helps detract from the truth that parents don’t want to see, that the parent bares some responsibility for placing the child in someone else’s care? By punishing caregivers more severely, are we as a society fabricating a belief that paid caregivers should be held to excessively high standards so parents don’t have to feel responsible for the decisions they make about leaving their children behind?
The story is just a news story, so it can’t really explain the reasons for the differences. But there is an underlying sense of vengeance, not justice, in how the cases are handled so differently. I think that’s because pure justice is equal, but justice applied within a judicial system leaves plenty of room for excuses and exceptions in some cases, and harsh treatment in others.
In a much less heartbreaking example of fiddling with rules, a friend on an internet forum posted recently that her employers at a job she is leaving got in a final “dig” at her as she left. She gave them reasonable notice and continued to work, but the final paycheck included inaccurate deductions and seemingly intentional oversight of actual hours worked and vacation and sick pay accrued. Expecting to be paid in full for her final week, she was getting just a few dollars. The employers were either operating within "the rules" and applying them to their full benefit, or ignoring some rules but assuming the enforcement of the rules would favor them as record keepers.
What is up with us? Why do we fiddle around with fairness and justice, putting some people in a chokehold just because we can and excusing other people’s failures, even when they are fatal?
I think it’s usually for all the wrong reasons. When we can exercise power and stomp down with authority, it’s too easy to conflate our desire for revenge or retaliation with “the law.” When we have the freedom to go easy on a lawbreaker and soften the consequences, it’s easy to use that power to readjust rules we don’t support or apply a warped idea of justice: What he did was bad but he’s so grief-stricken that anything society does to him can’t come close.
Worse, we can delude ourselves into believing we are withholding punishment out of mercy, when in fact we are protecting ourselves from facing an awful truth that’s hard to see. People who worry they might not be capable of the diligent action required by a law might be inclined to let someone else off for violating that law. Going easy on one guy might make it likely others will go easy on them when they mess up.
Mercy, I believe, can only be given freely. The person extending mercy cannot truly be merciful if enforcing the rules or the law would cause him unbearable distress; giving leniency cannot be merciful if it actually makes things easier for the guy in charge. It can’t be mercy if the person granting it dislikes the rule or thinks it’s unfair or harsh—that’s just rewriting the rule one instance at a time.
I think a person has to see the misdeed as wrong to be able to extend mercy. He has to agree that some kind of punishment is a fair and just consequence for the act. He has to be able and willing to mete out the punishment and enforce the consequence. Only when he has that freedom, but chooses to withhold some portion of the consequence for the ultimate greater benefit of the transgressor, is he truly showing mercy.
Mercy is the triumph of compassion and forgiveness over justice. Mercy draws these values together and attempts to balance them in a way that honors standards but accepts shortcomings. In humility and with empathy, full of hope for restoration, I see another person broken by his own mistakes and, with faith in his desire to change himself and repair the damage he has done, I set aside justice and offer comfort and assistance. Mercy is my response to a genuine need for help and healing.
Showing posts with label coach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coach. Show all posts
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Forgiveness
I come from a family of people who don’t apologize very often—some never. It’s not because they’re without flaws. I know that because a lot of people in the family were good at pointing out the flaws of the other people. But none of us were very good at seeing and admitting flaws in ourselves. If one person said he’d been mistreated by another person, the “accused” would make excuses, deny there was any wrongdoing, or point to the “accuser’s” history to show that, by comparison, the alleged misdeed was not much to complain about.
I also come from a broader background, in school mostly, where apologies had to be sincere enough to be accepted. If Jimmy hit Johnny, Jimmy had to say “sorry” without rolling his eyes or groaning or the teacher would make him try again. If Johnny didn’t believe Jimmy was really “sorry,” he would say so and not accept the apology.
As I reached adulthood and was working in the family child care center, then also in schools and a residential treatment center, I tried to explain to children why they were expected to apologize for wrongdoing. I told them it was acknowledging that you had done something wrong that hurt or offended another person. I told them it showed that you felt empathy for the pain you had caused to another person. I told them it showed you regretted what you did and wished you hadn’t done it. I even told them it meant you intended not to do that thing again!
As you can tell, I was naive. The best an apology can mean is: I realize I caused hurt, and I know I shouldn’t have done what I did. It doesn’t always mean I wish I hadn’t done it, and it certainly doesn’t mean I won’t do it again! An honest apology would probably sound something like, “I’m sorry I ________ you. I’ll probably regret it later, but right now it still seems kinda like you deserved it. I’d be mad if someone did that to me so I know it was probably wrong. I can’t guarantee I won’t do it again. In fact, change takes time so I’ll probably act that way a lot.”
As I learned later, I was conflating forgiveness with restoration. Apologies don’t have to be “good enough” for someone to forgive. In fact, you can forgive without ever getting an apology. Apologies help in the process of forgiving, and sincere apologies can help with restoration. But apologies don’t have to precede forgiveness. Forgiveness is not earned and it is not bestowed.
I’m in favor of a different sort of message now. Forgiveness is good for the forgiver. Failing to forgive leads to ongoing hurt and resentment in the non-forgiver. We all need to forgive at least as much as we need to receive forgiveness from other people.
You can forgive and still have requirements for restoration. You can forgive and still need a lot of time to heal. But for your own sake you need to forgive as soon as you feel able.
Forgiveness is acknowledging the hurt and pain caused by someone’s offense, and at the same time letting go of the claim on revenge or punishment, or even restitution. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting, but it does mean letting go of the past. Forgiveness frees the forgiver to move forward by letting go of the demand the transgressor must satisfy justice. It means letting go of anger and the desire to hurt in return. Forgiveness ends the conflict and opens the door for restoration, but it does not guarantee restoration. A person deeply hurt may require changes in a relationship in order to be willing to continue it. The transgressor may or may not agree. A person can forgive but choose not to continue a relationship. Even without restoration of a relationship, forgiveness is the way to let go of past hurt and move forward. It frees the forgiver as much as it frees the forgiven.
I also come from a broader background, in school mostly, where apologies had to be sincere enough to be accepted. If Jimmy hit Johnny, Jimmy had to say “sorry” without rolling his eyes or groaning or the teacher would make him try again. If Johnny didn’t believe Jimmy was really “sorry,” he would say so and not accept the apology.
As I reached adulthood and was working in the family child care center, then also in schools and a residential treatment center, I tried to explain to children why they were expected to apologize for wrongdoing. I told them it was acknowledging that you had done something wrong that hurt or offended another person. I told them it showed that you felt empathy for the pain you had caused to another person. I told them it showed you regretted what you did and wished you hadn’t done it. I even told them it meant you intended not to do that thing again!
As you can tell, I was naive. The best an apology can mean is: I realize I caused hurt, and I know I shouldn’t have done what I did. It doesn’t always mean I wish I hadn’t done it, and it certainly doesn’t mean I won’t do it again! An honest apology would probably sound something like, “I’m sorry I ________ you. I’ll probably regret it later, but right now it still seems kinda like you deserved it. I’d be mad if someone did that to me so I know it was probably wrong. I can’t guarantee I won’t do it again. In fact, change takes time so I’ll probably act that way a lot.”
As I learned later, I was conflating forgiveness with restoration. Apologies don’t have to be “good enough” for someone to forgive. In fact, you can forgive without ever getting an apology. Apologies help in the process of forgiving, and sincere apologies can help with restoration. But apologies don’t have to precede forgiveness. Forgiveness is not earned and it is not bestowed.
I’m in favor of a different sort of message now. Forgiveness is good for the forgiver. Failing to forgive leads to ongoing hurt and resentment in the non-forgiver. We all need to forgive at least as much as we need to receive forgiveness from other people.
You can forgive and still have requirements for restoration. You can forgive and still need a lot of time to heal. But for your own sake you need to forgive as soon as you feel able.
Forgiveness is acknowledging the hurt and pain caused by someone’s offense, and at the same time letting go of the claim on revenge or punishment, or even restitution. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting, but it does mean letting go of the past. Forgiveness frees the forgiver to move forward by letting go of the demand the transgressor must satisfy justice. It means letting go of anger and the desire to hurt in return. Forgiveness ends the conflict and opens the door for restoration, but it does not guarantee restoration. A person deeply hurt may require changes in a relationship in order to be willing to continue it. The transgressor may or may not agree. A person can forgive but choose not to continue a relationship. Even without restoration of a relationship, forgiveness is the way to let go of past hurt and move forward. It frees the forgiver as much as it frees the forgiven.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Compassion
I think my give a d$%#’s busted! I get mad just trying to write about this topic. I already erased three paragraphs because I was off on a rant against parents who pamper their children and protect them from responsibility—and even from normal disappointment of not getting everything they want! I was going to compare enabling and caretaking and pampering spoiled weak people with true compassion, but I got WAY off subject.
The voice that’s yelling from the back of my head is saying that lots of people don’t know what compassion is, at least not true compassion, so it gets displaced by all these counterfeits.
Worrying about a teenage young man (nearly adult) getting his feelings hurt because he hears people talking about being frustrated that he and his teammates didn’t put out much effort in a tournament—that’s not compassion. That’s pampering. When parents pay thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours of their time to give their sons the opportunity to play a sport at a highly competitive level, it’s right to expect them to perform. It’s necessary. The message otherwise is destructive—we’ll put out the effort, we’ll pay a lot, we’ll prioritize our time, but you aren’t expected to commit or stick with it if it feels too hard.
Complaining to a concession stand worker that your young child doesn’t like hot dogs or popcorn, so why don’t they have chicken nuggets or something your child will eat, is not compassionate. It’s ridiculous. It says the whole world—even the junk food world of concession stands—has to change to accommodate your child’s mercurial tastes.
The father who picked up his two-year-old son and put him on his shoulders and then encouraged his six-year-old son to join him racing his four-year-old daughter to the car—he was not compassionate. In fact, when he taunted the little girl because he (a grown adult man in case I didn’t make that clear) and the older boy won, she started crying. The moron’s response? He talked to her and the older boy the way middle school boys tease each other during competitions. She was devastated.
Maybe I should automatically feel compassion for the moron. Maybe I should see how broken he must be to need to beat his own four-year-old daughter at a race and then TAUNT her to get the sense that his equipment really is male.
Maybe I should feel compassion for the mother who is overwrought that her nearly adult son will feel the weight of other people’s expectations. Maybe I should see that she’s probably pampering and babying him because harsh expectations caused her a lot of pain. It’s not for certain, but it’s likely, and it’s certainly more compassionate than what I start out thinking.
Maybe I should feel how burdensome it is to be the mother of a preschooler who won’t eat hot dogs, won’t eat popcorn, won’t eat who-knows-what-else, but still feels desperate to rush around and find some specific junk food to feed the not-starving child.
Nah. That would be like feeling sorry for the man who had to clean his own house because he got his knickers in a knot and fired the cleaning service while his wife was away visiting family.
Compassion is concern about the welfare of others and includes empathy, the ability to have other people’s feelings resonate in your own heart. It is expressed not in caretaking, but in helping others learn to take care of themselves. It is doing for them only what they cannot do for themselves while expecting them to do what they can do and to learn what they don’t yet know. Burdens are lightened and lifted when shared, but joy shared becomes joy overflowing.
The voice that’s yelling from the back of my head is saying that lots of people don’t know what compassion is, at least not true compassion, so it gets displaced by all these counterfeits.
Worrying about a teenage young man (nearly adult) getting his feelings hurt because he hears people talking about being frustrated that he and his teammates didn’t put out much effort in a tournament—that’s not compassion. That’s pampering. When parents pay thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours of their time to give their sons the opportunity to play a sport at a highly competitive level, it’s right to expect them to perform. It’s necessary. The message otherwise is destructive—we’ll put out the effort, we’ll pay a lot, we’ll prioritize our time, but you aren’t expected to commit or stick with it if it feels too hard.
Complaining to a concession stand worker that your young child doesn’t like hot dogs or popcorn, so why don’t they have chicken nuggets or something your child will eat, is not compassionate. It’s ridiculous. It says the whole world—even the junk food world of concession stands—has to change to accommodate your child’s mercurial tastes.
The father who picked up his two-year-old son and put him on his shoulders and then encouraged his six-year-old son to join him racing his four-year-old daughter to the car—he was not compassionate. In fact, when he taunted the little girl because he (a grown adult man in case I didn’t make that clear) and the older boy won, she started crying. The moron’s response? He talked to her and the older boy the way middle school boys tease each other during competitions. She was devastated.
Maybe I should automatically feel compassion for the moron. Maybe I should see how broken he must be to need to beat his own four-year-old daughter at a race and then TAUNT her to get the sense that his equipment really is male.
Maybe I should feel compassion for the mother who is overwrought that her nearly adult son will feel the weight of other people’s expectations. Maybe I should see that she’s probably pampering and babying him because harsh expectations caused her a lot of pain. It’s not for certain, but it’s likely, and it’s certainly more compassionate than what I start out thinking.
Maybe I should feel how burdensome it is to be the mother of a preschooler who won’t eat hot dogs, won’t eat popcorn, won’t eat who-knows-what-else, but still feels desperate to rush around and find some specific junk food to feed the not-starving child.
Nah. That would be like feeling sorry for the man who had to clean his own house because he got his knickers in a knot and fired the cleaning service while his wife was away visiting family.
Compassion is concern about the welfare of others and includes empathy, the ability to have other people’s feelings resonate in your own heart. It is expressed not in caretaking, but in helping others learn to take care of themselves. It is doing for them only what they cannot do for themselves while expecting them to do what they can do and to learn what they don’t yet know. Burdens are lightened and lifted when shared, but joy shared becomes joy overflowing.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Humility
It’s taken me a long time to get this post written. First, it’s a stretch for someone like me to talk about humility. Second, I like to use a story as an example of the need for these qualities of character. In this case, I have way too many examples of my shortcomings!
When the road is open in front of me and a car waits until I get close before pulling out right in front of me, going about half the speed limit, I don’t see a valuable human being. I see a moron!
When I sit on a committee meeting—any committee, any topic—and the discussion collapses to the details of decorations or which font to put on a report or letter, my connectedness to humankind vanishes.
When I hear intense political arguments that turn into name-calling matches—where one side says any woman who wants to abort her baby is evil, and the other side says anyone who would stop a woman from her right to control her own body is evil—I don’t WANT to be connected to such hateful people.
When I go to the newly constructed “downtown” part of our formerly rural town which is trying to grow into an exclusive suburban community, and see people on cell phones hardly slowing at stop signs and not even looking as they roll right through, oblivious to the people around them slamming on breaks and jumping out of the way… well, I think you get the picture. Self-absorbed arrogance and false superiority really chap my #&$ (hide). I mean, for someone to think he (or usually she in our upscale little suburb) is superior to others because of the town she lives in is childish nonsense. To think she is better than all the other people who LIVE IN THAT SAME SNOBBY SUBURB is outrageous! They ALL drive cars that cost more than my first house! I don’t have the capacity to see the common humanity of people who act like that when I’m living the experience. Even with time and distance it’s hard to find compassion and empathy for such a person.
My grandmother was fond of saying, “People are just no damned good.” I thought for a long time that she was very jaded and very negative in her outlook. As I got older, I even thought maybe it was just her way of expressing the Presbyterian theological position of the total depravity of man—corruption is complete and taints every corner of the flesh and soul. In spite of her criticisms of other people and her sharp-witted quips to her family, she was very loving and caring. I finally realized that people probably disappointed her a lot. But in order to be disappointed so often, she had to have some level of belief in the ability of people to do good and some hope that she would see it. Maybe she was an optimist after all! I want to see the valuable person hidden inside a lot of people, but sometimes it’s just too hard.
Number 1 on Kent Keith’s “Paradoxical Commandments of Leadership” is:
People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered; love them anyway.
I guess that especially applies to those annoying, egotistical, colonialist, snobby #($@&#&%@s!
Humility is an acceptance that I am human, like all other people, with flaws and shortcoming. It is rooted in the belief in the dignity, or inherent worth, of all human beings. For me this derives from my belief that mankind is created in the Imago Dei, the image of God. Humility is the path to compassion and accepting the shortcomings of others. It also allows me to see that the poor have as much dignity as the wealthy, that the frail have as much dignity as the strong, and that the vulnerable have as much dignity as the powerful. Humility reminds me that the person cleaning the restroom is as worthy as the person who can change my life by approving my contract.
When the road is open in front of me and a car waits until I get close before pulling out right in front of me, going about half the speed limit, I don’t see a valuable human being. I see a moron!
When I sit on a committee meeting—any committee, any topic—and the discussion collapses to the details of decorations or which font to put on a report or letter, my connectedness to humankind vanishes.
When I hear intense political arguments that turn into name-calling matches—where one side says any woman who wants to abort her baby is evil, and the other side says anyone who would stop a woman from her right to control her own body is evil—I don’t WANT to be connected to such hateful people.
When I go to the newly constructed “downtown” part of our formerly rural town which is trying to grow into an exclusive suburban community, and see people on cell phones hardly slowing at stop signs and not even looking as they roll right through, oblivious to the people around them slamming on breaks and jumping out of the way… well, I think you get the picture. Self-absorbed arrogance and false superiority really chap my #&$ (hide). I mean, for someone to think he (or usually she in our upscale little suburb) is superior to others because of the town she lives in is childish nonsense. To think she is better than all the other people who LIVE IN THAT SAME SNOBBY SUBURB is outrageous! They ALL drive cars that cost more than my first house! I don’t have the capacity to see the common humanity of people who act like that when I’m living the experience. Even with time and distance it’s hard to find compassion and empathy for such a person.
My grandmother was fond of saying, “People are just no damned good.” I thought for a long time that she was very jaded and very negative in her outlook. As I got older, I even thought maybe it was just her way of expressing the Presbyterian theological position of the total depravity of man—corruption is complete and taints every corner of the flesh and soul. In spite of her criticisms of other people and her sharp-witted quips to her family, she was very loving and caring. I finally realized that people probably disappointed her a lot. But in order to be disappointed so often, she had to have some level of belief in the ability of people to do good and some hope that she would see it. Maybe she was an optimist after all! I want to see the valuable person hidden inside a lot of people, but sometimes it’s just too hard.
Number 1 on Kent Keith’s “Paradoxical Commandments of Leadership” is:
People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered; love them anyway.
I guess that especially applies to those annoying, egotistical, colonialist, snobby #($@&#&%@s!
Humility is an acceptance that I am human, like all other people, with flaws and shortcoming. It is rooted in the belief in the dignity, or inherent worth, of all human beings. For me this derives from my belief that mankind is created in the Imago Dei, the image of God. Humility is the path to compassion and accepting the shortcomings of others. It also allows me to see that the poor have as much dignity as the wealthy, that the frail have as much dignity as the strong, and that the vulnerable have as much dignity as the powerful. Humility reminds me that the person cleaning the restroom is as worthy as the person who can change my life by approving my contract.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Justice
Two wrongs don’t make a right.
So then how many does it take?
Justice can be a tricky thing. Balancing the rights and privileges of one person against those of another usually means something has to give and somebody, or both, give up their rights.
A teenager likes to play loud music in his car—freedom—but the neighbors need to sleep when it’s past midnight, so a city ordinance limits the teen’s freedom.
A homeowner wants to put up a satellite dish but the homeowners’ association, established to protect property values by regulating the appearance of the neighborhood, limits where it can be placed. The homeowner can’t get reception on the dish in the place he’s allowed to put it. The homeowner gives up the freedom to have satellite television to live in the neighborhood.
Most political debates have to do with justice. The children of middle class families are covered by their parents’ health insurance. The children of poor families aren’t. Should those children be at greater risk with their health because of their parents’ financial condition? Should the poor parents be obligated to pay something towards their care? Is society obligated to provide what the parents can’t or won’t? What is just?
Government is expensive so it requires a lot of taxes and fees to pay for it. An average income family of four earns a little over forty thousand dollars per year. If they had to pay just ten percent as taxes, that would be four thousand dollars per year, or a little over three hundred per month. Some people think that’s unfair since paying the basic bills takes most of the family’s income, so they have shifted taxes to higher-earning families. Instead of a family paying ten thousand dollars in taxes when they earn one hundred thousand dollars, they pay maybe twenty thousand dollars. The average family pays maybe fifteen hundred dollars. “They earn more so they can afford it,” is one view of justice. “Everyone benefits so everyone should pay his fair share,” is another view.
One of the biggest hot-button issues in politics right now is immigration reform. It is contentious because of the different views of justice. For years people have entered the country without permission or have stayed past their visas. We now have millions living here in violation of the law. Employers wanted cheaper labor and sellers wanted more consumers, so enforcement was lax. The “two wrongs make a right” view said that if immigration rules were too strict, a reasonable fix was ignoring the rules.
The illogic continues. Now people advocate for granting legal status to people here illegally as a solution—kind of an “Alice in Wonderland” worldview. Too many people here illegally? Let’s fix it! Declare them legal. Some even advocate for giving a path to citizenship to those here illegally, while those who are following the rules wait for years. Will all those wrongs make a right? No, they will just make a mess.
But throwing out immigrants here illegally will disrupt lives and tear apart families. The majority living here and working here peacefully are contributing to society, probably at least as much as the resources they are using up. Is it just to evict them? No, but it’s not just to ignore them or give them a pass. A more reasonable and just approach would be to take the time to find them and begin to keep track of them, giving them a way to stay and work for a prolonged period of time. It may even be just to give them the opportunity to get in line waiting for citizenship, as long as it’s at the back of the line.
“They’re here so they get to be citizens” is simplistic and ignores too much information. “They’re here illegally so they should be punished and thrown out” is also simplistic. The answers to political dilemmas aren’t easy because justice is demanding.
They come from countries with less political freedom, so there is little justice.
They come from countries with limited economic opportunity, mostly at the mercy of wealthy and powerful people, so there is little justice.
They come from countries with police and courts that are harsh, corrupt, and biased, so there is little justice.
But the countries of the world do not want us to impose our values and our way of life on them, so we can only offer their citizens justice once they are inside our borders.
So, no, the answer is not easy at all.
Justice is fairness, equality, and a passion for righteousness. Justice demands that rules be reasonable and have a real purpose, and that arbitrary rules be dismissed. It also demands that all reasonable rules be enforced. Justice calls me to defend the vulnerable and the overlooked. It calls me to stand up to the oppressor, the tyrant, or the usurper. It calls me to have courage and confront the lawbreaker when he is causing harm, and to speak up even at the risk of offending other people.
So then how many does it take?
Justice can be a tricky thing. Balancing the rights and privileges of one person against those of another usually means something has to give and somebody, or both, give up their rights.
A teenager likes to play loud music in his car—freedom—but the neighbors need to sleep when it’s past midnight, so a city ordinance limits the teen’s freedom.
A homeowner wants to put up a satellite dish but the homeowners’ association, established to protect property values by regulating the appearance of the neighborhood, limits where it can be placed. The homeowner can’t get reception on the dish in the place he’s allowed to put it. The homeowner gives up the freedom to have satellite television to live in the neighborhood.
Most political debates have to do with justice. The children of middle class families are covered by their parents’ health insurance. The children of poor families aren’t. Should those children be at greater risk with their health because of their parents’ financial condition? Should the poor parents be obligated to pay something towards their care? Is society obligated to provide what the parents can’t or won’t? What is just?
Government is expensive so it requires a lot of taxes and fees to pay for it. An average income family of four earns a little over forty thousand dollars per year. If they had to pay just ten percent as taxes, that would be four thousand dollars per year, or a little over three hundred per month. Some people think that’s unfair since paying the basic bills takes most of the family’s income, so they have shifted taxes to higher-earning families. Instead of a family paying ten thousand dollars in taxes when they earn one hundred thousand dollars, they pay maybe twenty thousand dollars. The average family pays maybe fifteen hundred dollars. “They earn more so they can afford it,” is one view of justice. “Everyone benefits so everyone should pay his fair share,” is another view.
One of the biggest hot-button issues in politics right now is immigration reform. It is contentious because of the different views of justice. For years people have entered the country without permission or have stayed past their visas. We now have millions living here in violation of the law. Employers wanted cheaper labor and sellers wanted more consumers, so enforcement was lax. The “two wrongs make a right” view said that if immigration rules were too strict, a reasonable fix was ignoring the rules.
The illogic continues. Now people advocate for granting legal status to people here illegally as a solution—kind of an “Alice in Wonderland” worldview. Too many people here illegally? Let’s fix it! Declare them legal. Some even advocate for giving a path to citizenship to those here illegally, while those who are following the rules wait for years. Will all those wrongs make a right? No, they will just make a mess.
But throwing out immigrants here illegally will disrupt lives and tear apart families. The majority living here and working here peacefully are contributing to society, probably at least as much as the resources they are using up. Is it just to evict them? No, but it’s not just to ignore them or give them a pass. A more reasonable and just approach would be to take the time to find them and begin to keep track of them, giving them a way to stay and work for a prolonged period of time. It may even be just to give them the opportunity to get in line waiting for citizenship, as long as it’s at the back of the line.
“They’re here so they get to be citizens” is simplistic and ignores too much information. “They’re here illegally so they should be punished and thrown out” is also simplistic. The answers to political dilemmas aren’t easy because justice is demanding.
They come from countries with less political freedom, so there is little justice.
They come from countries with limited economic opportunity, mostly at the mercy of wealthy and powerful people, so there is little justice.
They come from countries with police and courts that are harsh, corrupt, and biased, so there is little justice.
But the countries of the world do not want us to impose our values and our way of life on them, so we can only offer their citizens justice once they are inside our borders.
So, no, the answer is not easy at all.
Justice is fairness, equality, and a passion for righteousness. Justice demands that rules be reasonable and have a real purpose, and that arbitrary rules be dismissed. It also demands that all reasonable rules be enforced. Justice calls me to defend the vulnerable and the overlooked. It calls me to stand up to the oppressor, the tyrant, or the usurper. It calls me to have courage and confront the lawbreaker when he is causing harm, and to speak up even at the risk of offending other people.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Honesty
When I was pretty young, probably around 4 or 5, we lived in a neighborhood full of young families on the first rung of the middle class ladder. Most of my friends were typical kids, decent most of the time, jerks when stressed out, but able to move back from jerk to decent if a mom showed up. Jerk smoldered a little but decent prevailed, so it was pretty clear that decent was genuine and jerk was reactive.
There were, of course, a couple of exceptions. I think they lived on the next block over, where our babysitter lived. Maybe I just like to think it. She was an older teenager. She taught us that “Strawberry Fields” by the Beatles would tell you, “I buried Paul,” if you played it backwards. It freaked me out hearing that! She also told us Coke would eat up your stomach and tried to demonstrate with a piece of bacon. Nothing happened. She introduced us to stories of séances and ghosts, and I swear she could have written for “The Twilight Zone.”
A couple of kids that had to come from the same block would play on our street once in a while. They were older, almost teens. They taught us to go up to someone and say, “Your epidermis is showing!” It was a great practical joke because the person would look confused, then worried, and then a little freaked out. When you explained it you got a great laugh.
But these older kids were jerks. Not reactive jerks—genuinely jerks. They pulled the trick on a little girl they knew and brought with them across the block border. I think she was a sister or a cousin. They got that cocky look on their faces and said “Watch this.” Then they called her over and told her, “Your epidermis is showing,” and laughed that jerky whole body laugh that said they thought they were the coolest things around.
She started to cry. Deeply fearful cries. I was mortified! I tried to explain to her it was only her skin, but she looked wounded and withdrawn and wouldn’t stop crying. Someone appeared and took her home.
Another time the jerks pulled the “Watch this” routine and told the little girl they were going to call the police on her for something little, like calling somebody a rude name. She argued briefly, but they insisted they would do it, the police would come, and they would take her off to jail. She crumbled that time, too, and the “someone” who showed up to take the girl home demanded the jerks go with her, too.
Looking back I see how cruelty hurts. Cruelty doesn’t care about truth or facts. It uses whichever will cause damage. They hurt her with an outrageous lie, but they also hurt her with the truth.
Truth is a very powerful thing. In counseling and in coaching, it is a tool and a goal. Being forthright, clear, and direct are practices that help clients move forward. The problem is, even people who want to learn about themselves and move forward can be devastated by the truth, so it has to be balanced by empathy and respect and acknowledgements of the client’s strength and abilities.
And the hardest lesson of all about honesty: you can be empathetic, you can acknowledge strengths and abilities, you can speak gently and slowly and give information in little pieces, and it can still devastate someone. People who don’t want to know themselves, who are broken or fearful and need to build a lie and climb inside it to feel safe, can despise honesty. It is poison to them because it will bring down the world they fabricated to feel safe, competent, worthwhile, likeable, etc.
That hostility towards truth can be insurmountable in a professional counseling or coaching relationship. In personal relationships it’s impossible to have anything but a limited and shallow interaction with such a person, and hardly worth the effort.
Honesty is a bold commitment to truth. It does not waiver when challenged because it flows from the heart. Honesty does not hurt for the sake of hurting, but it does not hide to protect others. People can be hurt and disrupted when they see themselves and their behavior in the light of honesty, so it is a powerful tool that must be respected. Honesty means speaking the truth, but doing so in love and with compassion to help another person receive truth. Only through honesty can a person be truly known by others, and only through honesty can people experience genuine relationships with each other.
There were, of course, a couple of exceptions. I think they lived on the next block over, where our babysitter lived. Maybe I just like to think it. She was an older teenager. She taught us that “Strawberry Fields” by the Beatles would tell you, “I buried Paul,” if you played it backwards. It freaked me out hearing that! She also told us Coke would eat up your stomach and tried to demonstrate with a piece of bacon. Nothing happened. She introduced us to stories of séances and ghosts, and I swear she could have written for “The Twilight Zone.”
A couple of kids that had to come from the same block would play on our street once in a while. They were older, almost teens. They taught us to go up to someone and say, “Your epidermis is showing!” It was a great practical joke because the person would look confused, then worried, and then a little freaked out. When you explained it you got a great laugh.
But these older kids were jerks. Not reactive jerks—genuinely jerks. They pulled the trick on a little girl they knew and brought with them across the block border. I think she was a sister or a cousin. They got that cocky look on their faces and said “Watch this.” Then they called her over and told her, “Your epidermis is showing,” and laughed that jerky whole body laugh that said they thought they were the coolest things around.
She started to cry. Deeply fearful cries. I was mortified! I tried to explain to her it was only her skin, but she looked wounded and withdrawn and wouldn’t stop crying. Someone appeared and took her home.
Another time the jerks pulled the “Watch this” routine and told the little girl they were going to call the police on her for something little, like calling somebody a rude name. She argued briefly, but they insisted they would do it, the police would come, and they would take her off to jail. She crumbled that time, too, and the “someone” who showed up to take the girl home demanded the jerks go with her, too.
Looking back I see how cruelty hurts. Cruelty doesn’t care about truth or facts. It uses whichever will cause damage. They hurt her with an outrageous lie, but they also hurt her with the truth.
Truth is a very powerful thing. In counseling and in coaching, it is a tool and a goal. Being forthright, clear, and direct are practices that help clients move forward. The problem is, even people who want to learn about themselves and move forward can be devastated by the truth, so it has to be balanced by empathy and respect and acknowledgements of the client’s strength and abilities.
And the hardest lesson of all about honesty: you can be empathetic, you can acknowledge strengths and abilities, you can speak gently and slowly and give information in little pieces, and it can still devastate someone. People who don’t want to know themselves, who are broken or fearful and need to build a lie and climb inside it to feel safe, can despise honesty. It is poison to them because it will bring down the world they fabricated to feel safe, competent, worthwhile, likeable, etc.
That hostility towards truth can be insurmountable in a professional counseling or coaching relationship. In personal relationships it’s impossible to have anything but a limited and shallow interaction with such a person, and hardly worth the effort.
Honesty is a bold commitment to truth. It does not waiver when challenged because it flows from the heart. Honesty does not hurt for the sake of hurting, but it does not hide to protect others. People can be hurt and disrupted when they see themselves and their behavior in the light of honesty, so it is a powerful tool that must be respected. Honesty means speaking the truth, but doing so in love and with compassion to help another person receive truth. Only through honesty can a person be truly known by others, and only through honesty can people experience genuine relationships with each other.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Responsibility
Social psychology and organizational psychology have shown us that authority and accountability go hand-in-hand. If you give someone accountability for a task or responsibility for another person without the authority to take action, you create psychological stress. Over many years, you have a person who is repeatedly blamed and criticized for things that are out of his control. In the extreme, it can produce depression and even a psychotic break from reality.
If you give someone authority over a task or other people without any accountability—well, we all know where that leads. “Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” When a person is free to do whatever he wants, it creates a sense of entitlement and superiority, known as narcissism.
For good outcome with tasks or leadership of people, the two have to be in balance. A person cannot direct a task or lead other people without authority. A person cannot produce consistently good results in a task or leadership of a group without accountability.
Do you know a middle school or high school student who has had a group project assigned, been told their individual grade is based on the group’s performance, and then been stuck in a group with the unavailable slacker who won’t do his part? If you’re a parent you know exactly what I mean. Your A or A/B student got her summary paragraphs done and e-mailed some photos to the person who was supposed to print things out for the presentation, or put together the PowerPoint. A night or two before the presentation, your child and the other two productive group members are scrambling to create the visual part of the project because the slacker can’t cowboy up. The group project gets an 88 and the teacher says she’s being generous. Your child goes to talk to her and she says you have to learn to be part of a team in the real world so you have to learn to deal with team members who don’t perform. The grade stands.
I have friends who are teachers, but come on! What teacher works in the “real world?” There is micromanagement of everything teachers do and accountability for how long they spend in the restroom. They have no clue! In the “real world,” a slacker on a group project is removed quickly when the group speaks up together and tells the person who assigned the project which member isn’t performing. The group uses the authority and the concern of the person who assigned the project.
It would go something like this. “Hi, Karen. We’re 3 days out from needing to put finishing touches on that presentation you want for a week from Monday. Graphics hasn’t even returned first proofs that were due over 2 weeks ago. We’ve called, I’ve e-mailed, Joe’s gone down there, and we’ve tried everything that company policy allows. What do you suggest?” Let’s see. In the “real world,” the project assigner needs it done so has a vested interest in the outcome. So…does she say: A) “That’s your problem. You have to learn how to be part of a team. If that project’s not done right, it’ll be written up on all your records!” or B) “I’ll make a call right now. I’ll have them send you a schedule of when you will receive each stage of proofs. Let me know if it’s not in your inbox by 3:00.”
The clearest example I have of authority without accountability is soccer referees. My older son plays club soccer, which means we pay a large fee and have a professional coach receive a salary for training and coaching the team. Dues the team pays to leagues are very high, partly for fields, and partly for—the highest quality referees!
But here’s how the soccer organizations empower referees. The center ref, that’s the guy in the middle of the field, is a god. The guys with the flags on the sideline get to address the god, point their flag, and suggest calls, but the god can ignore them. Whatever he rules stands. If player A shoves player B from behind and player B hits the ground, then player A stumbles over the guy he shoved to the ground, the god can call a foul on the guy who was knocked down. The little fellow with the flag on the sideline can suggest to the god that it’s not a foul, but the god can ignore him. He can even eject the player from the game by giving him a red card.
Here’s the accountability system. Can you tell I’ve seen lots of times when accountability would have been useful? First: a league will NEVER overrule a referee’s call on the field. Even if the line ref, who can be god (AKA center ref) in a different game, saw it clearly and is sure it was not a card, the player ejected has to sit out the rest of the current game and all of the next game. The referee who made the bad call? Well, the league will make a little note of the complaint on a form somewhere, and if they get lots of complaints they say they will probably not schedule him again. What they mean is they’ll try to make sure not to schedule him with the same team again for a while, but they’ll let him work plenty of other games.
The association that certifies refs only has to evaluate a person ONCE to qualify him or her to work at most levels. In some leagues, a ref might get evaluated once a year or so, meaning an evaluator watches part (maybe half) of a game the ref is working and then gives him provocative questions and suggestions: “When that blue jersey kid ran over and slammed into the red jersey kid, you called a foul on the red jersey kid. What was it that you saw?” Then, of course, “the next time you see a player pulling someone’s jersey so hard the other player spins around, you might think about calling a foul.”
And the leagues and the news media blame frustrated parents when they’re yelling at referees. They have no legitimate place to take their concern! There is no venue for justice. There is no “right to assemble” and demand a better performance by referees, because the leagues’ default answer is ALWAYS the same: parents are biased and don’t know the game as well, so their complaints are invalid. Even when I’ve been watching the game before or after my son’s, with no emotional connection to the outcome, and have reported an atrocious call, I’ve heard that excuse.
I once told a league official at a tournament that the out-of-state ref crews they brought in were very bad in all the games I saw, including ones my son wasn’t in, and it affected the outcome of the tournament. He very sarcastically sneered and asked, “Are you trying to say referees can REALLY change the outcome of a game?” I looked at him with “What kind of flake are you?” written all over my face and said, “of course they can!” He demanded that I go away and leave him alone.
I think people of weak character wear their authority like a protection from criticism to hide the fact that they are over their heads. I think there are so many instances where people in authority flaunt their power and use it to attack critics that many people are afraid that being in a position of authority will make them inherently evil. They avoid accepting leadership roles or try to overcompensate and lead by consensus, which is no leadership at all and is doomed to failure. They never really have the courage to take charge because they don't see many role models of authority used well. I think the answer is to balance accountability and authority.
It’s a millennium-old idea from the first appearance of the legend of King Arthur. Civilization shifted its moral thinking from “Might is right” to “Might FOR right.” Power should only be wielded to enforce fair and just rules and to protect the weak, and power should only be given to those who will use it in that way, fully accountable to and in service to those they lead.
Responsibility is the acceptance that my actions have consequences and my daily life uses up resources. It is the somber awareness that most of my actions affect other people, and that my actions within my family, my friendships, and my work will affect people who are interdependent on me. I am accountable to others who depend on me. My goal is to complete my assigned tasks fully, well, and on time so those counting on me are not let down. With those under my authority and care, I intend to be fair, compassionate, helpful, and approachable. There is a nobler word, DUTY, which evokes the importance that personal responsibility can have within a community or a society.
If you give someone authority over a task or other people without any accountability—well, we all know where that leads. “Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” When a person is free to do whatever he wants, it creates a sense of entitlement and superiority, known as narcissism.
For good outcome with tasks or leadership of people, the two have to be in balance. A person cannot direct a task or lead other people without authority. A person cannot produce consistently good results in a task or leadership of a group without accountability.
Do you know a middle school or high school student who has had a group project assigned, been told their individual grade is based on the group’s performance, and then been stuck in a group with the unavailable slacker who won’t do his part? If you’re a parent you know exactly what I mean. Your A or A/B student got her summary paragraphs done and e-mailed some photos to the person who was supposed to print things out for the presentation, or put together the PowerPoint. A night or two before the presentation, your child and the other two productive group members are scrambling to create the visual part of the project because the slacker can’t cowboy up. The group project gets an 88 and the teacher says she’s being generous. Your child goes to talk to her and she says you have to learn to be part of a team in the real world so you have to learn to deal with team members who don’t perform. The grade stands.
I have friends who are teachers, but come on! What teacher works in the “real world?” There is micromanagement of everything teachers do and accountability for how long they spend in the restroom. They have no clue! In the “real world,” a slacker on a group project is removed quickly when the group speaks up together and tells the person who assigned the project which member isn’t performing. The group uses the authority and the concern of the person who assigned the project.
It would go something like this. “Hi, Karen. We’re 3 days out from needing to put finishing touches on that presentation you want for a week from Monday. Graphics hasn’t even returned first proofs that were due over 2 weeks ago. We’ve called, I’ve e-mailed, Joe’s gone down there, and we’ve tried everything that company policy allows. What do you suggest?” Let’s see. In the “real world,” the project assigner needs it done so has a vested interest in the outcome. So…does she say: A) “That’s your problem. You have to learn how to be part of a team. If that project’s not done right, it’ll be written up on all your records!” or B) “I’ll make a call right now. I’ll have them send you a schedule of when you will receive each stage of proofs. Let me know if it’s not in your inbox by 3:00.”
The clearest example I have of authority without accountability is soccer referees. My older son plays club soccer, which means we pay a large fee and have a professional coach receive a salary for training and coaching the team. Dues the team pays to leagues are very high, partly for fields, and partly for—the highest quality referees!
But here’s how the soccer organizations empower referees. The center ref, that’s the guy in the middle of the field, is a god. The guys with the flags on the sideline get to address the god, point their flag, and suggest calls, but the god can ignore them. Whatever he rules stands. If player A shoves player B from behind and player B hits the ground, then player A stumbles over the guy he shoved to the ground, the god can call a foul on the guy who was knocked down. The little fellow with the flag on the sideline can suggest to the god that it’s not a foul, but the god can ignore him. He can even eject the player from the game by giving him a red card.
Here’s the accountability system. Can you tell I’ve seen lots of times when accountability would have been useful? First: a league will NEVER overrule a referee’s call on the field. Even if the line ref, who can be god (AKA center ref) in a different game, saw it clearly and is sure it was not a card, the player ejected has to sit out the rest of the current game and all of the next game. The referee who made the bad call? Well, the league will make a little note of the complaint on a form somewhere, and if they get lots of complaints they say they will probably not schedule him again. What they mean is they’ll try to make sure not to schedule him with the same team again for a while, but they’ll let him work plenty of other games.
The association that certifies refs only has to evaluate a person ONCE to qualify him or her to work at most levels. In some leagues, a ref might get evaluated once a year or so, meaning an evaluator watches part (maybe half) of a game the ref is working and then gives him provocative questions and suggestions: “When that blue jersey kid ran over and slammed into the red jersey kid, you called a foul on the red jersey kid. What was it that you saw?” Then, of course, “the next time you see a player pulling someone’s jersey so hard the other player spins around, you might think about calling a foul.”
And the leagues and the news media blame frustrated parents when they’re yelling at referees. They have no legitimate place to take their concern! There is no venue for justice. There is no “right to assemble” and demand a better performance by referees, because the leagues’ default answer is ALWAYS the same: parents are biased and don’t know the game as well, so their complaints are invalid. Even when I’ve been watching the game before or after my son’s, with no emotional connection to the outcome, and have reported an atrocious call, I’ve heard that excuse.
I once told a league official at a tournament that the out-of-state ref crews they brought in were very bad in all the games I saw, including ones my son wasn’t in, and it affected the outcome of the tournament. He very sarcastically sneered and asked, “Are you trying to say referees can REALLY change the outcome of a game?” I looked at him with “What kind of flake are you?” written all over my face and said, “of course they can!” He demanded that I go away and leave him alone.
I think people of weak character wear their authority like a protection from criticism to hide the fact that they are over their heads. I think there are so many instances where people in authority flaunt their power and use it to attack critics that many people are afraid that being in a position of authority will make them inherently evil. They avoid accepting leadership roles or try to overcompensate and lead by consensus, which is no leadership at all and is doomed to failure. They never really have the courage to take charge because they don't see many role models of authority used well. I think the answer is to balance accountability and authority.
It’s a millennium-old idea from the first appearance of the legend of King Arthur. Civilization shifted its moral thinking from “Might is right” to “Might FOR right.” Power should only be wielded to enforce fair and just rules and to protect the weak, and power should only be given to those who will use it in that way, fully accountable to and in service to those they lead.
Responsibility is the acceptance that my actions have consequences and my daily life uses up resources. It is the somber awareness that most of my actions affect other people, and that my actions within my family, my friendships, and my work will affect people who are interdependent on me. I am accountable to others who depend on me. My goal is to complete my assigned tasks fully, well, and on time so those counting on me are not let down. With those under my authority and care, I intend to be fair, compassionate, helpful, and approachable. There is a nobler word, DUTY, which evokes the importance that personal responsibility can have within a community or a society.
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