The famous lone protester at Tienanmen Square, 1989
I saw the title of this post on a local veterinarian's sign today. Apparently it's from Aesop's Fables, though I'm not sure which one.
One of my best-received articles was the one I wrote last year on courage.
At that time I said that I disbelieved most of the common wisdom about
courage: That it's in all of us, that it's false bravado, or moral
strength, or superior character. I ascribed it instead to love: "If you love life, others, your world, enough, perhaps you can summon up
the courage to do anything." And I agreed with this wonderful quote from right-wing blogger Bill Whittle:
And in this imperfect, flawed
nation of ours, perhaps more than anywhere else on Earth, I think about
the courage it takes to be poor,
to face that sickening knot of worry and despair that comes with not
having the money to pay your bills. For there is no more steady and
enduring courage than that of a poor family, especially a single
parent, who fights a never-ending battle of brutal hours at miserable
pay, of perennially unrealized dreams, and of the desperate, numb agony
of disappointed children. For people like that, who force themselves to
work two jobs while we sleep, to avoid the temptations of crime and
dependency while surrounded by luxury and wealth the likes of which man
has never known…well, that is dogged courage of a sublime nature that
passes all understanding.
And
I wondered aloud why day after day, despite my passionate beliefs about
what was wrong with the world and what needed to be done, I sat at the
computer, and wrote instead of acting. Did I not love the world, Gaia,
and its needlessly suffering people and animals enough?
Since
then, I've received some solace and, at the same time, a prod, from
philosopher John Gray, who has persuaded me that no amount of energy,
organization and ingenuity is going to prevent the end of civilization
by the end of this century, but has also refocused me on what I can do
and should be doing to make things better here and now
at the local level, and to create some working models of intentional
communities and community-based enterprises and economies that can help
those who survive the end of our civilization to live in peace, harmony
and comfort.
Supposing you were suddenly blessed with a
benefactor who offered you $200,000 per year tax free for the rest of
your life. The only condition is that you not accept any money from any
other source for doing anything. If you work, it has to be for free. if
you gamble or invest, any gains have to be given away. What would you
do? Just retire and 'do no evil', living a life of ease with loved
ones, minimizing your footprint? Write the book you've been putting
off? Do work for charity -- locally? in an inner city or impoverished
rural area near you? in a struggling nation? Study and learn and make
yourself a better person, and then take it from there?
OK, now I'm going to change the supposition. Now you have instead a one-month
sabbatical, $25,000 to spend, and a guarantee that your job or other
source of income will be intact once the month is over. Same conditions
on other income during that month. Would that change your answer? If
so, why?
Back to the first scenario. It's now a month later.
Honestly, have you started yet, or are you still thinking about it,
unwinding, "in transition"? What's holding you back?
Now, just
to up the ante, add to both scenarios a $10 million grant that you can
spend on any one project, with the proviso that neither you nor any
family members can directly personally benefit from the money. What do
you spend it on? I'm willing to bet that you make faster progress
spending the money than you do changing your lifestyle. If I'm right,
why is that?
Here's my answers to the questions above, and why I think they're probably close to what most people would do:
 I would start by writing my three or four books: First clean up Natural Enterprise, a book about models for establishing your own joyful, socially and environmentally responsible business. Then my novel The Only Life We Know, which tells the story of a model for intentional community. Then the book The Gift Economy, which outlines a model for a new community-based economic system. And finally, perhaps, The Cost of Not Knowing, a book that explains why we choose not to know or act about huge potential dangers.
The
reason I would do that is that, if we're wise, we do things that are at
the intersection of what we're good at, what we love doing, and what's
needed. The market, I think, doesn't yet know that the world needs the
models I outline in my books, so they won't, right now, pay me for
writing them. My 'benefactor scenario' would solve that problem for me,
moving the writing of these books from intersection 2 to intersection 3
in the chart at right -- and ending my procrastination.
Once
these were written, I would start working full-time and simultaneously
on making AHA! a reality, creating a new Intentional Community, and
facilitating the creation of Natural Enterprises by young people -- for
the same reason: these activities would then be in intersection 3 for
me. There are some other things on my Getting Things Done list bit
they're things I'm not good at and would need a lot of time to become
good at. Even under this scenario I know these would never get done,
though I expect I would spend some time acquainting myself with people
who are good at these things.
In
the second scenario, with only a month, I fear I would be much less
likely to do much different from what I'm doing now. A month isn't
enough time to make a significant change in what we do, if we know we
have to go back to former behaviours at the end of it.
The $10
million grant would be easy to part with: It would be simply a matter
of deciding whether to finance AHA!, or a new Intentional Community, or
a 'school' to 'teach' Natural Enterprise, or a new animal welfare
organization -- or all four. In a month, the money would all have been
given away.
Why? I believe it
is human nature (a) to only change when we have to, and (b) to avoid
risk until and unless the current pain is high enough that the fear of
changing is less than the anguish of not changing. There have been a number of studies that confirm this to be true for most of us. Lack of money (and the fear of not having enough)
are currently holding me back from jumping into my writing and then
real model creation, bringing the subjects of my books to fruition in
the real world. For me to give up the current comforts of home,
routine, and lots of time with family, for a cause, no matter how
worthy, will only happen when either my intolerance for the status quo
gets much higher, or the (financial) risk of that change gets much
lower. In this scenario that financial risk is lowered. And giving away
money for something you believe in, when if you do not give it away you
lose it, is easy -- you have nothing at risk and you do not have to
change.
Does that mean I lack courage, for not doing it now,
anyway, with no benefactor or safety net? Perhaps, but I'm not so sure.
Look at the best-known heroes of history and myth. They fought for what
they did because the anguish of not changing was so high and so
immediate, that they had no alternative but to be brave. There was no distance between them and the demons they fought and vanquished. There was no choice but to change. They had nothing to lose.
And
how about the poor, the ones that live with this anguish every day?
They are of course brave, because there is no distance between them and
the grinding daily struggle to survive and make a life for themselves
and those they love. The fact that they have no choice but to be courageous does not diminish their courage. It simply explains it.
If I lack courage it is perhaps not daring to eliminate the distance
between me and the potential sources of anguish that might raise that
level of anguish to the point I might do something heroic. If I were to
go to Darfur and see how the people there are living, if I were to see
first hand how animals in factory farms and laboratories are treated,
if I were to witness the day-to-day misery of the poor and suffering
living just a few miles away, that might change everything. That would
change everything. My risk aversion, or cowardice, prevents me from
staring that truth in the face, because I know I would have to do
something, anything, now and for the rest of my life, if I really knew what I fear is happening now in our world.
That is my
Cost of Not Knowing, and the reason that, for now, I keep my distance.
There is no courage in that, but also no shame. I'm merely human, after
all. |
MADE IN CANADA
trust your
instincts 
