How to Stop Abuse

Quiz: Which of these things happened yesterday?

1. A famous football coach was convicted of sexually abusing 10 boys.
2. A Roman Catholic official was convicted of endangering children by covering up priest sexual abuse under his watch.
3. A summit of global leaders failed to agree on meaningful action to stop corporations and governments from continuing to abuse the earth.
4. All of the above. 

I won’t hold you in suspense; it’s d, all of the above, but a and b got all the news coverage in the United States because sexual abuse by individuals gets better ratings than environmental abuse by large institutions.

We just can’t help it—human beings like a good scandal, and the news media has been giving us plenty of headlines lately. As the cases of Penn State Assistant Coach Jerry Sandusky and Msgr. William Lynn have moved through the courts, we’ve heard about powerful men abusing their positions, tearful victims, and sordid details. We’ve seen the accused shuffling in and out of court, stony faced. There is something cathartic about being the audience to these proceedings. We can rejoice that victims were vindicated and justice was served, if belatedly. We can praise the courage of those who came forward, for without them these powerful men would never have been tried. 

What do we learn from these two cases? The age-old lessons: Power corrupts; and ordinary people find it hard to speak truth to power, even when they know what they are witnessing is wrong.

Which brings us to what might have been the biggest news story in the world, but wasn’t, the UN summit on sustainable development in Rio de Janeiro where negotiators from 193 countries couldn’t agree on anything stronger than affirming some of the things they agreed on 20 years ago at the first Rio summit. 

Activists from all over the world insist that the stakes are too high and too urgent for more stalling. As Bill McKibben put it at a protest outside the summit, “The real news today is that sea ice in the Arctic is at a record low for the date and that every state in the United States, except for North Dakota, has temperatures above 90 degrees.” But even the weather didn’t trump Sandusky and Lynn yesterday, and certainly not McKibben’s point that local weather events add up to a global pattern with catastrophic consequences. A gradually developing problem like climate change, which is denied by institutions with very deep pockets and large vested interests, isn’t as salacious as the other kinds of abuse, though the truth is that the world is getting fucked and our governments are looking the other way. Our president, I’m sorry to say, is like the monsignor who ought to have known better.

Watching the sex abuse cases on TV, it is easy to assume that we would have reported our suspicions right away, we would have protected that kid in the shower. But what are we doing to look out for the people of the Maldives or many parts of Africa where scientists predict that tens of millions of people will die from the effects of climate change? For that matter, what are we doing to protect our own children’s future? Remember that Msgr Lynn didn't have to abuse anyone himself to get convicted of endangering children.

In the end, the powerful men who made news this week were stopped by ordinary people whose consciences overcame their fears. If we want to stop companies that engage in mountaintop removal, fracking, deforestation, or the host of other devastating practices that are contributing to global devastation, we need to be the ones to speak up and hold the powerful accountable. It's the only way abuse ever stops.

Earth Quaker Activism

Just over three years ago, I wrote a blog post questioning whether I could still call myself an activist and reflecting on what type of social engagement I felt drawn to. An even earlier post, questioned what kinds of political events I wanted to bring my children to, especially after the Bush Administration demoralized so many of us who opposed the wars Bush started. This year I’ve felt a rebirth of my activist spirit and, after a long sojourn from blogging, want to share what has been life giving. 

Ever since the genesis of the Earth Quaker Action Team, I’ve been cheering them from a distance, thinking that some day—after the book came out, then after the year of fundraising for the GSFS Costa Rica Exchange Program—I’d like to get involved with them. I got an added nudge last year when I showed up at the Philadelphia Flower Show and got to witness one of their protests against PNC Bank for its financing of mountaintop removal coal mining. Finally in December, I showed up at one of their meetings and found something I’ve been missing in my life: positive, Spirit-led and strategic activism about something important, which actually feels hopeful.

Part of it is that this is just a terrific group of people, several of whom I always wished I knew better. Part of it is the singing which begins most meetings, often led by a member of Tribe One, so the songs are spirit-filled and on key (not a given in activist circles, I must say). Something about the singing feels symbolic of what’s special about this group. People are showing up with their whole selves and with joy, which makes the meetings inspiring rather than draining. 

Part of my enthusiasm comes from the fact that I’ve felt a deep spiritual connection to mountains since I started camping in high school, and I love the fact that we are working on an issue that connects that love with my concern about climate change and for economic justice. When the mountains are destroyed to get coal, the people of Appalachia are the first to suffer—with rising rates of cancer and birth defects—but then the coal is brought to places like our area to burn, triggering my daughter’s asthma and contributing to the climate change affecting the village where I was in the Peace Corps, which I wrote about in my last post. I love that we are making these connections. I also love that this is a campaign we could conceivably win. PNC describes itself as a “green bank” with Quaker roots, and EQAT has been both smart and visionary in calling them to live up to their own best image of themselves.

The fact that I joined just as EQAT (pronounced "equate") was getting ready to launch the Green Your Money Program and now the Green Walk for Jobs and Justice—a 200-miles walk from Philadelphia to PNC’s national headquarters in Pittsburgh—has made it easy for me to jump in with both feet, finding things to do that feel both meaningful and empowering. Mostly I’ve been networking with other people of faith and other green activists (I have to put in special plugs for Pennsylvania Interfaith Power and Light and the folks at 350.org), and it’s wonderful to connect with others who share the same concerns. If any of you want to join us along the way, or if you have contacts near Harrisburg and Pittsburgh in particular, please be in touch.

I still feel led to talk about the impact climate change will have on Africa, something you don’t hear much about in the US, and I am still searching for ways to bring forward that message. Partly I’m hoping to do it in the new book I’m working on (which is still taking shape, so don’t ask me what it is about). I’ll be going back to Botswana this summer for the first time in 25 years, so I’m extremely excited about that! It feels like 2012 is a year full of rich personal changes—and hopefully some social change, too.

45 Degrees

Last week a friend of mine from Botswana called to say hello. Some of you may know the story—that I served there in the Peace Corps in the mid-1980s then lost touch with a dear friend and miraculously reconnected with her a few years ago. Anyway, she calls from time to time for a brief chat, which always thrills me.

Knowing that it’s summer there now and that climate scientists predict that Southern Africa will be hit hard by climate change, I asked if it was hot. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “It’s 45 degrees!” For those of you who live in the Fahrenheit world, that’s 113 degrees to us. I checked later on the Internet to see if I had heard her right. Turns out what was an unusual high back in the 80’s is now the average summer high. The climate website said that it is so hot during the brief rainy season that the water evaporates before it can be absorbed into the ground. I found the below GoogleEarth image of my old village, which shows the white bed of a dry river. Above is a picture of the river when I was there.

I think this was the last straw for me. For a few years I’ve been feeling that I should do more about climate change. I’ve written an article or two about things others have been doing. I’ve posted articles and videos on Facebook (including this compelling one for those who doubt the science). But I recently reheard Father Michael Doyle’s line about what prompted him to direct action during the Viet Nam War. “What do you do when a child is on fire? Write a letter?” 

It’s not like we haven’t done anything. We insulated our old house well and are now insulating our new one. We try to limit our consumption and take short showers. We worked to elect Obama, hoping that would help. But I wonder, when I hear on the news someday about the massive famines climate scientists are predicting for Africa and Asia, will I feel it was enough? I don’t think so. I can’t help remembering that my mother still blamed the British 150 years later for not doing more to prevent the Irish Potato Famine.

I’ve been waiting awhile to see what the thing is that I’m supposed to do. Suddenly there is a new job I just heard about that might be the thing, and I feel a new sense of excitement and hope. Please hold me in the Light as I rewrite my resume for the first time in years and test the leading to apply for this. The timing is a bit stressful—yes, we finally got the house but haven’t finished moving yet!—but I have the sense that if it’s what I’m supposed to do it will work out. If not, then maybe something else will make itself clear. In any case, I’m clear that I need to do something more.

What Do We Remember?

I once heard of a study that compared how people from the United States and people from Japan remembered two key events of World War II: the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the bombing of Hiroshima. Not surprisingly, the two groups remembered history differently. The Americans studied knew much more about Pearl Harbor and felt it was particularly treacherous because it was a surprise attack when the US was not yet at war with Japan. For them, the details of Hiroshima were a little sketchy, but they remembered that that bombing took place during a time of war and believed that it ended the conflict, thus saving lives in the long run. The Japanese, on the other hand, were more likely to remember Hiroshima, which they pointed out was an attack on civilians that, because of the long-term radiation effects, killed as many as 100 times more people than Pearl Harbor, making it more treacherous than an attack on a military base.

It’s interesting how people love to remember the wrongs that have been done to them or their tribe. My mother could recount the injuries England inflicted on Ireland like it was prayer she knew by rote. Most ethnic groups have their own litanies. Even in our personal lives, we tend to do this, remembering every slight, but glossing over the hurts we have caused others. It’s why Jesus’ teaching is so pointed and timeless: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?”

This question haunted me after September 11, 2001, when it became painfully clear that most people in the US had no earthly idea why people in other parts of the world resented us. It’s not just that they had forgotten the history of the Cold War: they never knew it. Because US foreign policy was a lot of what I studied in college and graduate school, I felt I needed to hold up some other pieces of the story, even as I grieved along with other Americans. The result was a talk I gave in the Pendle Hill lecture series: “Discernment in the Aftermath of September 11.” You can read it here, if you’re interested.

This morning’s Philadelphia Inquirer headline reads “We Remember,” and I have no objection to remembering. But I think it is important to recognize this human tendency to partial memory and make an attempt to see more fully. How might we be transformed if we used this occasion to mourn all the casulties of this decade of conflict— the million Afghan and Iraqi dead, as well as the victims of 9/11 and the coalition military killed abroad? How many more wars will it take before we learn to love our neighbor as ourselves?

Long Story Short

I haven’t posted in nearly two months, partly because I’m still in the waiting and trusting phase that I wrote about last post. Here’s a little update.

We thought our short sale deal was approved, and so we started packing. We got approved for a mortgage and told our kids to pack their books and take their posters off the walls. I set up gas and electric service and scheduled movers, mold removers, and a chimney guy to deal with the back-draft around the hot water heater. Turns out, however, that only the major part of the deal was settled. The sellers still owe back taxes to the city of Philadelphia, as well as a home equity loan, which was originally with the same bank as their mortgage but is no longer because their mortgage was sold to another company. The bottom line: there are some loose ends that other people have to tie up before we can buy the house. I’ve been doing what I can and letting go of the rest.

Meanwhile, Tom bought me flowers for my birthday and discovered that all the vases were packed. This morning I went to walk the dog in pouring rain and realized that the closet with the umbrellas is behind a pile of boxes. So it’s been that sort of month. It’s been interesting watching my children deal with the uncertainty, especially since some things happened this week that made it seem possible that the deal wouldn’t work out at all. One child continues to pack, certain that we will be moving soon. The other is praying instead of packing, fervently asking for the house every night at bedtime. I remind myself that dealing with uncertainty (and watching us deal with it) is good life training.

I’ve taken a pause from packing to focus on things that should be done, whether we move or not, such as touching up the paint on the front door and the mailbox and sorting through files. I still believe we will move, hopefully soon, but I’m trying to practice that elusive balance between positive thinking and letting go, which in my past experience, brings the best results. I’ve also been asking for prayers because I’ve noticed that works, too. Tomorrow, we should be getting one important piece of news that could end the whole deal or enable us to take the next step. So thanks to those who have been praying for us, and please keep it up!