Stop Starving Gaza

On Tuesday, June 3, I went downtown to a 5:30 demonstration against the current Israeli policy of starving the people of Gaza. There were only about 200 protesters, but then the event was poorly publicized. Most of the protesters were either quite old or quite young. Many were Jewish; some were people of color. One, a lovely young Asian woman, said it was the first time she could allow herself to be photographed without a mask at a protest. She had just become an American citizen. Now she doesn’t have to be afraid of deportation for protesting a war crime.

We had been asked to wear black and bring an empty pot. I understood the black: we were mourning tens of thousands of unnecessary deaths. The pots were to bang on, it turned out. The symbolism was wasted on passersby, and there was quite enough noise without the banging.

My protest buddy said she agreed with about 60% of what the speakers said. I agreed with about 80%. Some of them spoke about the 1400 medical workers killed in Gaza since the Hamas attack of October 7, the journalists killed, the international journalists prevented from reporting on the scene. One of them, the angriest, was the only speaker I’ve heard who seemed to support Hamas. He was listened to, but the crowd murmured, and didn’t bang on their pots when he finished.

Some of the signs: “Gaza Genocide: we can’t say we didn’t know.” “Let the children eat.” “Gaza: the graveyard of international law.” One tee shirt quoted George Carlin: “I have certain rules I live by. My first rule: I don’t believe anything the Government tells me.”

A man in a MAGA hat tried to ride his bicycle through the crowd. The monitors stopped him, politely, but he wanted to argue. “Now you’re behind me, and I’m feeling threatened!” he said, and added, “You judge me because I’m wearing a hat?” He kept getting louder. A youngish man stepped up, telling the guy he was going to change his mind. The monitors asked the two men to take their argument further away from the speakers, which they did.

For the next half hour, the two men continued their discussion to one side of the protest. The older man mentioned Dresden and Nagasaki as the kind of horrors that are sometimes necessary in war. He said he had seen videos of Hamas hijacking aid trucks. At one point I heard the younger man say, “I’m hearing a little too much dry drunk right now.” Finally they shook hands, and the MAGA guy rode away on his bike. I doubt his mind had been changed. But he clearly felt that he had been given a respectful hearing.

I remember, wistfully, an occasion nearly a year ago when I had a good conversation with a Zionist Jew on the Harvard campus. We disagreed on most things about this war, though we agreed on many other issues. We came up with the idea of the university holding a series of informal meetings on Gaza, to be called “Let’s Just Talk.” We parted amicably. But the last time we saw each other on opposite sides of a protest, he hissed at me, “So you support terrorism?!”

Our opposing sides are operating with two different data sets. Two different sets of photos, videos, eye witness accounts, casualty numbers: everything. We really, really need to just talk.

Strangers in a Strange Land

“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the heart of a stranger: You were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exodus 23:9).

The Passover service reminds Jews that once we were slaves in Egypt. We also remember that not so long ago, millions of us were herded into concentration camps to be tortured, worked, or poisoned to death. These memories should encourage us to feel empathy for the people who are currently suffering under cruel regimes.

Most Americans are now aware that the Trump administration is a consistently cruel regime. Some of the meanest people Trump could find are running our government. Times are hard, and about to get harder, for anybody with little money. For immigrants, life has become not just hard but terrifying. Not much prevents ICE from disappearing any of them into some hellhole in El Salvador for no reason at all.

Jews left Egypt because Pharaoh had made life unbearable for us. But after our miraculous escape into the desert, some missed their old homes, especially the pomegranates and figs. We were free, but the migrant life brought us a new set of troubles. Few people leave home if they don’t have to. We love the landscapes, people, and communities where we grew up. If we can stay home and make a living in peace, that’s what most of us prefer to do. But if staying home means that our families are subject to violence, extreme poverty, or other forms of oppression, sometimes we have to leave.

According to the Economic Policy Institute, there were around 48 million immigrants in the USA in 2022. Some came because their relatives were here and could find jobs for them, or to study at our great universities. However, many of them were fleeing terrible conditions in their home countries. They had to leave. They crossed deserts, rivers, and mountain ranges to get to this country, where they hoped to be able to live in peace.

Immigrants look for work in sectors where there are labor gaps, in agriculture, health care, or construction. They include doctors and software engineers as well as farm workers and care providers. Together, they generated $4.6 trillion in economic output in 2022. Often they pay taxes without gaining the benefits citizens expect from the government. Without their youth and vigor, our country would not be able to support our aging population as it retires. We owe them a lot.

In addition to what US citizens gain in needed labor and new business ventures, we get a range of wonderful new food and music to enrich our lives. Anybody who visits a major city in the US can find and enjoy nearly every culture in the world. This has always been part of why most of us love this country: everybody is here. People from Iran and Iraq, China and Japan, Russia and Ukraine, manage to live together in America. Within a generation, they are as American as it gets.

Yet instead of welcoming these people who went through so much to get to our country, our government treats them like criminals. Democratic presidents have not done much better than Republicans in this regard. It’s easy to blame immigrants for situations that are clearly not their fault – like the American appetite for opioids, which has fed the growth of violent gangs worldwide. No American government wants to admit that our country’s cynical support for South and Central American dictators nurtured the drug trade and devastated the lives of their citizens. Yet we bear heavy responsibility for the brutal conditions that have made so many flee their homes.

The worst irony for many Jews this Passover is that another cruel regime causing tremendous suffering is the state of Israel. Jews who realize how badly Israel has treated Palestinians since the state was founded are struck with deep shame and horror. Most pro-Palestinian demonstrations include a strong showing of supportive Jews. We remember when we were the victims of cruel regimes. Now we must do whatever we can to stop the cruelty, even if the perpetrators of oppression and violence claim they’re doing it for our sake.

I would like to add two prayers to this year’s seder: May everyone in Israel/Palestine live together in peace someday. And may the United States learn to respect and protect all those strangers who honor us by coming to live here.

by Jane Collins
Please email me at janecollins1@gmail.com if you would like me to add you to my regular readers’ list.

Here Come the Clowns

On November 16, around 150 people, nearly all white men, marched against abortion in Boston. I was proud of our city. The counter-protest was about ten times larger than the march. Approximately one in ten counter-protesters came dressed as clowns. There were a few Antifa people in black and a few communists with pamphlets and a bullhorn, whom everybody ignored.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm for the season. My son and I arrived late to the planned rally at the bandstand in the Boston Common. We thought we might have missed the whole thing. Then we saw a couple of cute young female clowns coming up the path. They told us the march was delayed but should be arriving any minute. Some student journalists from Emerson College, intrigued by his Veteran Healing sweatshirt, interviewed my son. Their questions boiled down to, Why are you here? His answer was, To fight fascism.

According to an NBC News report, police made nine arrests earlier in the “National Men’s March to Abolish Abortion and Rally for Personhood”. The report’s headline called it “a large anti-abortion march”, even though the only large crowd was the one that came out to oppose it. All the news reports I’ve seen feature many photos of the stern-looking men in black suits or priests’ clerical robes, and few photos of the much more colorful and numerous counter-protesters. There were almost as many police as marchers, some in full riot gear; the photographers liked them too.

The counter-protesters carried handmade signs: “Thomas Jefferson disagreed with you! He believed in the separation of church and state.” “Wealthiest Nation with highest Maternal Mortality.” “Life begins at ejaculation/ Mandate vasectomies.” “Letting men decide about women’s healthcare is like letting your dog make decisions about your car because he likes to ride in it sometimes.” And my favorite: “He who hath not a uterus should shut the fucketh up; Fallopians 19:73.”

Trying to drown out the speakers, people blew whistles and horns, rang cowbells, and shouted slogans like “Racists, sexists, anti-gay/ All you fascists, go away!” “Pray! You’ll need it! Your cause will be defeated!” “Pro life? That’s a lie/ You don’t care if people die.” Pleasanter noise came from the Clown Band, about two dozen musicians, heavy on the brass. When the Men Against Abortion entered the cordoned-off bandstand, the band greeted them with the Imperial March from Star Wars.

Some of the police looked ready to attack the clown-inflected protest crowd. Two cops, though, stood right in front of the anti-abortion folks’ worst sign. It was a huge blow-up of a dismembered full-term fetus, which if it was real at all must have been from the delivery of a stillborn child in a last-ditch effort to save the mother’s life. Maybe those cops didn’t mean anything by blocking that sign for a few minutes. Or maybe they were wishing they had taken a sick day.

When the rally was over, and the marchers left the Common behind walls of police and metal barricades, clowns and friends lined their route with middle finger salutes. Most of the men in black marched on with jutting chins, looking straight ahead, and the few male children with them seemed to share the smug arrogance of their fathers. But I saw two boys, probably eight and ten years old, who hung their heads and looked completely miserable. Those poor little ones might already have been wondering which marchers were the real clowns.

Clowns, 1: Fascists, 0

What we do now

There will be no way to avoid a succession of horrors in the coming four years. It’s no use waiting for the Democratic Party to tell us what to do. It has become a creature of corporate interests, out of touch with the needs of the non-rich. We have to tell the Party what to do.

The non-profit sector is a mess of single-issue organizations competing for attention and money. We are not single-issue people. Whether you are on a board or just a member, pressure your group to join other groups in as many coalitions as it can manage. All our issues are connected under the banner of peace, justice, and a survivable environment. Progress on any of our goals helps us to achieve all of them. Solidarity is key. We must stand up for one another.

More than changing institutions, we need to change minds. Leave your comfort zone. Don’t stick to preaching to the converted. If you can get access, go on Fox or  the bro podcasts. Wait in line for a call-in radio talk show. Try to reach new audiences. Don’t talk down; persuade. Explain what you believe, and be ready to back it up.

We need big change. That means our actions must be non-violent. Violence is not change; it’s just part of the same cruel culture that is wrecking our world. If you are part of a protest, do whatever you can to keep things civil, no matter the provocation.

Expand your social set. Meet people who are not like you. Listen to them with respect. Everyone has something to teach. You don’t have to leave the country to find whole new worlds to explore. Besides, we need you here.

Most of all, keep yourself and your friends from wallowing in despair. If we think there’s no hope, we’ll stop trying, and then there really won’t be any hope. 

I Believe in Magic

I’m 76 years old. I’ve been homeless, crazy, sick, lost people I love, seen good things turn to shit. And I still believe in magic.

I believe in the magic of loving kindness. I have seen it, felt it. Tried to practice it. And I’ve been watching a long time, and it works. I’ve seen it work.

I felt it in the streets in the ‘60s and at protests and vigils and marches ever since. For every useless war, every awful court decision, people come out in the street to say no together: No, please, not again.

I’ve felt that magical fellowship in congregations of many faiths, at neighborhood barbeques, at music and art events, parks, and beaches. I even felt it once in the Manhattan terminal of the Staten Island ferry, when a woman’s parrot got loose and many teams of strangers instantly formed to get it back.

The meek are everywhere. We take comfort in one another’s presence. We get along peacefully. We’re all colors, genders, religions. We exist in every country.

Some big ape starts hooting and beating his chest, and all the other big apes start hooting and beating their chests. Usually it’s just noise, and boys marking their territory, but sometimes it gets serious and leads to war.

This has nothing to do with protecting mothers and children. It’s anger, insecurity, arrogance, and pride, all the worst parts of our nature, roused up, encouraged. Feeling things are going their way, the big apes can strut their supremacy. They have the power now; they think it’s done. But this is not over.

We are the people of peace, and we must win. Magic lives in our hearts. The secret is to practice it together, in solidarity, across every issue, and to never give up.

Common Ground

My family was not religious, but we were always aware that we were Jews. Until I was 12, we were the only Jewish family in a Catholic neighborhood. Some families wouldn’t let their children play with us. My parents sent us to Hebrew School, to get in touch with our roots – as we say now. My brothers and I attended for two hours after public school on Mondays and Wednesdays, and for four hours on Sunday mornings. We learned, or at least they tried to teach us, Biblical and modern Hebrew, the five books of Moses and historical commentary, and customs and ceremonies. What they also taught us, though we didn’t realize it until much later, was Zionism.

I was born three years after the Holocaust killed all our relatives who didn’t leave Poland in time. We learned that even though the world knew what the Nazis were doing to the Jews, few nations would accept Jewish refugees. Even the USA forced ships full of them to return to Germany. When anti-semites came for the Jews, we could not depend on anyone else to help us.

So, we were taught, Israel was the only safe place for Jews. It was the promised land of milk and honey. God had made a covenant with us: if we obeyed His laws, we would thrive in this land. We were taught nothing about the people who had been living there during the 2,000 years in which most Jews were elsewhere.

Jews in Israel were turning the desert green, they taught us. Jews were no longer helpless victims of anti-semites; in Israel, we were armed warriors, defending our new-built oases from the jealous tribes around us. Like the Sabra cactus that symbolized the settlers, we would be tough on the outside while we stayed soft on the inside.

At the Passover seder every year, my family repeated the ancient words: “Next year in Jerusalem.” Not that we intended to go ourselves. But Israel was the refuge of last resort. When we heard news reports about Arab attacks on Israel, our rabbis urged us to send money so that Israel could defend itself – for all our sakes.

The propaganda was thorough and relentless. Over time, support for Israel became as much an article of faith as the existence of God – and for many Jews, more worthy of our belief. Any Jew who dared to question Israel’s behavior was damned as a traitor to our people.

While we were learning about the Holocaust and Arab attacks on Jewish settlements, Palestinians were learning about the forced expulsion of 750,000 Arab residents from Israel after WWII – the Nakba – and the theft of Arab land and often violent repression of Arab residents ever since. Nobody taught American Jews about the Nakba. Nobody taught Palestinians about the Holocaust. The two peoples were deliberately blinded to each other’s suffering.

Now it should be no surprise to anyone that these two damaged, exploited, disrespected peoples, abandoned by the rest of the world after it trapped them together, have learned to identify themselves as bitter enemies, each willing to fight to the death to eliminate the other from their contested land.

One side shouts Holocaust. The other shouts Nakba. Both have long lists of atrocities to shout thereafter. Amid the shouting, who is listening? Who is able to see that everyone on both sides is the walking wounded?

It is heartening that today, in many demonstrations calling for a permanent ceasefire, progressive Jewish organizations are taking a leading role. At least some American Jews are finally waking up to our share of responsibility for the current disaster in Gaza. We have allowed ourselves to be silenced, while news of Israeli brutality sifted down to us past the censors. We have allowed too many of our so-called spiritual leaders to shame us out of fellow-feeling for Palestinians. We have continued to support an apartheid state that has segregated and oppressed Arabs just as Jews were segregated and oppressed in Eastern Europe long before the Nazis came to power. And we have sent untold millions of dollars, and urged the American government to send almost four billion dollars a year, to arm a country that always seems to meet violence with much greater violence.

Jews and Palestinians have all been brainwashed. Lost in the fog of partisan information is the sense of common ground – the awareness that we humans must share a finite and vulnerable planet. We have been taught to believe that Israel, or Palestine, has a right to exist. What we must come to understand is that no country has a right to exist. Only people have that right. Countries are products of our imagination. People are real. Until we can learn to acknowledge the harm we have all done to others, and determine to live together in peace, none of us will be safe.

Next year, may we share Jerusalem.

Time to Grow Up

Our species has had a wild and crazy adolescence. These days we’re facing the consequences of our irresponsible behavior. We can now see that our bad habits will kill us if we don’t quit. It’s time to grow up.

Can we stop eating too much meat, using too much fuel, buying too much stuff we don’t need? Can we stop using plastic? Can we stop making war?

Many of us believe that only the rich have the power to change anything. This sense of insignificance is a delusion. Every person is just as significant as every other. Each of us offers a unique perspective that adds to our common understanding of our world. Whenever we listen to a new viewpoint, our culture shifts a little. We grow. Barriers fall; we make new connections. And anyone who has managed to kick an addiction knows that it’s not easy to change, but it’s possible.

We have a tremendous amount of work ahead of us. There’s no guarantee we can make the necessary changes. Maybe the civilization we have built is too powerful and its inertia too great, our addictions too ingrained. Maybe people are too greedy and violent to change our ways.

But we are much more than our bad habits. Every human survives infancy because someone fed us and wiped our little bottoms; such ordinary kindness is the neglected background of our lives. Nearly all of us are capable of caring for others, creating beauty, inventing new ways of doing things. And for the first time in history, we have the tools to take full advantage of these assets for the sake of all humanity: the internet and Artificial Intelligence.

In recent years, our culture has focused on our differences. We needed to understand how the spectrum of race, gender, and wealth affects individual lives. We needed to hear more voices than those of rich, straight, white men. With the internet, finally, all of us can speak. AI can tell us what people have already figured out about how to fix things, if we ask it the right questions. We are barely beginning to understand the power of this new tool.

The next stage of evolution is looking at common ground – what we share, how we’re all alike – instead of only at our differences. We can feel this common ground in a movie theater or concert. Everyone in the audience is at one with all the rest, in a way. Our attention has a common focus. Changing our culture means changing what we pay attention to. It’s time to focus on human survival.

Our attention is our singular gift, our most valuable asset. We can choose what we look at, what we like, what we buy – in both senses of the word. This is our vote. This is the direction we’re taking the culture, whether or not we want to admit our personal responsibility for it.

Status, wealth, nationality, and religion are things we made up, stories we tell ourselves about who we are. It can be hard to admit that we’re really just a bunch of panicky primates trying to figure out how to run the planet before we ruin it.

Our world is changing quickly. We now have the tools we need to organize ourselves for survival. Whether we can manage this or not is an open question. Let’s not give up before we try.

People of Peace

Now is the time for all good people to come to the aid of the species. The forces of greed and violence have driven us to despair. We know we must change how we live, but we don’t believe we can.

The forces of good have been scattered. We’re fighting on separate battlefields, although we face the same enemies. We have to join forces to win this war.

We need to make big changes. That means a revolution. But it can’t be a violent revolution. Violence isn’t change. Violence is the enemy we are fighting. If we fail to be nonviolent, we are playing the enemy’s game, and we will lose.

Most people are the walking wounded. We live in a brutal culture. A few have everything. The rest of us have to fight for the scraps. The rulers urge us against one another. They want us to fight amongst ourselves.

Israeli against Palestinian. Ukrainian against Russian. Black against white. Men against women. We who are all the same – brothers and sisters – are fighting one another instead of the forces of violence and greed.

It’s time for this species to wake up and get ourselves together. We have to learn to live together, to work together, if we’re going to figure out how this organism in which we are living cells – humanity – is going to survive.

Survival will mean working in coalition. Trying to understand each other. Breaking down barriers, not building them up. This is how we create a real revolution, the big change we need.

We people of peace must join together if peace and justice are ever to prevail.

The Golan Heights, 1968

(Incident that failed to appear in any newspaper or radio report: Three unarmed Arab men attempting to steal cattle were killed by an Israeli Army patrol)

Imagine you are a child with a brown crayon
and draw hills: Bump. Line. Bump. Another line.
Imagine you’re a hawk, and circle those hills,
searching for rodents in the dry grass.
Imagine you’re a bee in the busy season
probing daisies, larkspur, overwhelmed by poppies.
Here, winter is mud; spring, flowers; summer, prairie fire.

Imagine you are grown up to be a soldier
perched in a spy tower on a barren hill.
The hawk ignores you.
The flowers grow elsewhere.
The mud finds you, all right.

And now it’s fall, a chill dry season unrelieved
by the bright birds of the lowlands, when on the flat places
tired cattle forage miles for their supper.
Some hard wind of war has swept
the tan stone villages bare.  Herders of sheep and cattle,
artisans, bakers of flat breads, small traders,
people with long deep roots in the stony soil –
when war snapped them loose they blew all the way to Damascus.
There they wait, in camps behind tall wired fences,
for another great wind to blow them back again.
They wonder at how little they weigh in the world.
And their cattle – their milk and meat,
their very sandals to bear them over the rocks –
impervious to rumor, too dull to run,
after all outweigh their masters and remain at home.

But blown by the same fierce wind that tumbled the others,
new masters squat on the prairie.
Milder in the valley, gusts uprooted
only these lightweight ones, the young and thoughtless,
already halfway into the air with pride.
In the green nave of the valley, raised near the sound of waters,
surrounded by the fruit and flowers of their parents’ toil,
these sprouts were haunted.
Always they peered at the highlands, felt watched and blind.
In the pride of their imaginations it was they
who would watch from the heights.  In their hearts’ calculus
all factors faded under the edge that overlooked them,
that frozen wave of rock, a step up in the world.
Toward what, or what the next step might be,
they couldn’t see or care.  When the wind came,
they spread wings of longing and coasted up.

Now they are here.  They look down at their natal valleys,
around at stubble.  The cattle are their cattle.
It was the space they conquered.  They did not conquer
the people, never met, can’t imagine them.
One drunk old man remained, weighted by stupor.
Now he sells canned goods he found abandoned,
trades in sign language, bobs and grins.
He is granted the respect due the insane.

The new masters choose clean spaces.
They avoid the empty villages,
build tin huts or use old army barracks.
The soldiers were Russian.  Transients do not haunt.
The wind shattered all the glass in the one large town;
the streets sparkle.  A child’s rubber sandal, splintered chairs…
no one will live here again but the madman.
Of all this, the cattle only know
their new masters bully them like the old, but ineptly.
They wander farther before men track them down.

Sauntering forth at daybreak from spartan huts,
the settlement cowboys bus to the ranch for breakfast.
Their old army van’s the noisiest thing in miles,
jolting on roads built hastily by the British.
The young men hold on silently, watching
the few colors wake on the desert plains.
Breakfast is boiled black coffee, scrambled eggs,
jokes with the cook and rougher jokes with each other.
Outside, the tough little horses stamp and blow.
Then more rituals: smoothing on saddle blankets,
kicking the horses’ bellies to tighten the girth.
Now the brief sadness of going separate ways:
they are few, the cattle many, and the plains wide.

The cattle are a losing venture, too stringy to sell.
The settlement diner supports the ranch.  Every male worker
longs to be a cowboy.
In the fields and kitchens, each one waits his turn.
They go without new coats to pay for the time
Brahma bulls are imported to improve the herd.
These gallants are guarded at night like any harem,
and led at dawn in stately pearl-grey pageant
out to some waiting cows not half their size.
Things go wrong at once.  They need help mating.
As the fall chill deepens, pneumonia strikes the bulls.
The cows’ knees buckle from the growing weight in their wombs.
By spring all the bulls will die, and most of their mates.
The few survivors birth by Caesarean section
and are too weak to nurse their over-sized young.
The settlers postpone new boots to pay for the birthings
and three pet calves with humps on their small backs
reproach them: you pushed too hard, too fast.

In the villages, untended roses
have reached their splendid, fragrant bloom again.
All summer, what food the gardens volunteered
was eaten by birds and shy four-footed things
still watching for those whose loss
was their small gain.
Those gardeners have not gone far, but only receded.
They know when the army patrols.  Some nights
the old masters, sneaking up
with familiar movements, persuade the cattle
the shortest distance between square meals
lies across the border.
In the morning, the cowboys miss a dozen or thirty.
For a while, the patrols double, and the raids cease.
To the cowboys, what is being stolen
is not meat or sandals but
their mastership, the illusion of peace in war.
When raiders are caught, they learn
to expect no quarter.

Imagine you are a bee among the last roses
on a bush mulched by rubble and broken glass.
Imagine you’re a hawk, circling an old foundation.
In the end of things
there is good hunting.
Roses into wildflowers.  Houses into grass.

By Jane Collins

War of the Worldviews

Let’s deal in oversimplifications for this argument. Imagine an extremist Christian man and an extremist Muslim man talking about their beliefs in a living room somewhere. Their discussion grows more and more heated, and, depending on the men’s temperaments, might even come to blows. 

Meanwhile, their wives are in the kitchen, fixing tea and a snack. Are they discussing religion? Most likely not. They’re talking about men, maybe even about the challenges of living with true believers. The men in the living room are fussing. The women are laughing. The real difference in this (terribly stereotyped) scenario, I respectfully submit, is not between the Muslim couple and the Christian couple, but between the men and the women. 

Any time you try to talk about culture you are forced to generalize. If you constantly qualify your projections by acknowledging the wide spectrum of behavior in any one culture, you can’t reach any conclusions at all besides the fact that people are strange, which holds true everywhere. When it comes to human behavior, there are more exceptions than rules.

In general, though, there are two cultures in conflict in the world today. One is dominant, but unstable. The guardians of this culture tend to be “alpha males,” that is, men with a need to be on top of their worlds, who are aggressive, self-centered, ambitious, and willing to resort to violence. This culture has encouraged certain kinds of material progress but results in constant struggle and increasing divides between haves and have-nots. 

The other culture is submissive but stable. This culture is maintained and propagated mostly by women. It is other-centered, conciliatory, patient, and prevents or tamps down violence wherever possible. This culture keeps the human world going, for without it, the dominant culture would tear everything apart.

I’m going to call the dominant culture male, though it includes many biological females. I’ll call the complementary culture female, though it includes many biological males. There is no question about which culture is uppermost today. Anywhere you find hierarchy, whether in a capitalist, nominally communist, or oligarchic society, the male culture rules. Wherever you find egalitarianism, cooperation, and collaboration, the female culture is in charge.

Not every society in history has been ruled by alpha males. Sophisticated justice systems; decisions by councils of elders; inclusive mores that provide for and protect society’s outliers; peaceful agrarian societies: all of these indicate the primary influences of women’s culture.

On the other hand, violence; the heedless destruction of human and other natural resources; the oppression of the lower classes: all these are sure signs that the male culture is running the show. 

Clearly women’s culture evolved around the need to protect children from men’s aggression. If some sector of society did not propagate the values of caregiving, altruism, and sharing, that society would not survive two generations. 

In a world of many languages, where communication was difficult, male culture evolved to settle disputes through physical violence. It would be up to the males whether a tribe’s territory expanded or contracted. The more territory, the more access to game, water, and fuel, the better the tribe’s chances of survival. If you see the world as belonging to “us” or “them”, you want the biggest, baddest guys on your side. 

Our world today hangs in the balance in more ways than one. Scientists tell us that our behavior over the next decade or so will determine whether global climate change continues at a pace likely to doom our (and most other) species, or whether it will moderate to a manageable level. Nuclear proliferation proceeds at a rate where unstable regimes and non-state actors have access to weapons that could render the planet uninhabitable except by cockroaches and rats. Water pollution and over-use is at the point of making entire countries vulnerable to death by disease or famine.

Whether our species survives these crises depends upon another balance: the balance between male and female culture. Male culture has ruled, nearly planet-wide, for centuries, cementing its hold though tyrannies and then through the spread of capitalism, which values and rewards selfishness, aggression, and greed. But the destruction that attends these values is catching up with us. More and more people realize that we could very well do ourselves in if we continue on our current path. 

Meanwhile, female culture has begun to strengthen in ways unimaginable a century ago. Women’s liberation has barely begun, but its effects are threatening male dominance in every society. Some ancient techniques (violence against women and LGBTQ people, veiling, double standards on sexual experience) and some new ones (high heels, sexualization of younger and younger women, co-optation of women leaders) work against women’s rise, but the trend continues. Women have gotten the idea that they should participate fully in public life, and they are insisting on their right to do so. What has given this idea such strength and persistence?

I believe that deep in our collective unconscious, we know that women’s culture must assume dominance if humanity is to survive. We must stop hurting one another and start taking care of one another; we must stop wasting resources, and learn to conserve; we must clean up the messes we have made; we must stop rewarding greed, and place more value on sharing. Only women’s culture carries the tools and techniques to bring about these changes.

This necessary revolution, which seems so radical, would actually require only a shift in the balance of cultures. We just have to listen more closely to what Jung called the anima, the feminine side of our consciousness. The center in us that corresponds to female culture – the center of nurturing, caring, sustaining values and behaviors – must gain our respect, as it is the key to our species’ survival.

The movement toward women’s liberation arises from the deepest place in ourselves: the part that wants to live, and wants our children to live. Right now, many of the stories we tell ourselves are generated from our fear that survival is not possible. Even though every one of us contains the seeds of a new world, we despair of the possibility that they will grow and thrive.

When we choose our leaders, we should ask ourselves which culture they embody. We need more representatives of female culture to set public policy, whatever their gender. We need more women in positions of power, not because women are that different from men, but because they have been the custodians of the set of values around which our species must reform its behavior.

Those women laughing in the kitchen do not need to come into the living room and argue with the men. No: it’s the men who need to come into the kitchen, drink the tea, eat the cookies, and learn to laugh with the women. 

Intersectionality

Sometimes, in our culture, it seems the individual is all that matters. Life is about me: my career, my wealth and status, my history. We talk about intersectionality, the many identities that make up one person. What about intersectionality among people, rather than within them? Isn’t that our most important circumstance, as a species?

Say one person is gay, male, white, urban, and Jewish. Another is straight, female, Asian, suburban, and Buddhist. According to what is usually meant by intersectionality, one might expect them to have little in common. But they both love dogs; they’re both poets; and they’re both passionate gardeners, though the guy’s plants are all in pots on his balcony. How different are they?

Ethnicity, gender, religion – these are aspects of the self that help us feel part of groups larger than our immediate friends and family. These aspects are endlessly fascinating. They take up most of our public discussion. Yet they represent a fraction of what a person actually is. More of our couple’s thoughts and daily activities are likely to concern their dogs, their poems, and their plants than any of the supposedly more significant aspects of their identities.

Ethnicity, gender, and religion are stories we tell ourselves. These histories are important and yet, to a degree, imaginary. They help make individuals what we are. But how have they come to outweigh other aspects so much that we sort ourselves into such narrow categories?

This sorting is far from accidental. A very few people have accumulated most of the economic and political power on this planet. So long as Black and white, male and female, Hindu and Muslim, are convinced we are significantly different, we can’t get ourselves together to challenge that power. One only has to look at Trump, Xi, Putin, Modi, or any other authoritarian to see that they deliberately foment enmity among ordinary people.

Imaginary boundaries keep us fighting one another, instead of taking charge of the planet, which the current culture is ruining for everybody. Preventing ordinary people from organizing is a short-sighted strategy on the part of elites, since their grandchildren as well as ours will have to inhabit this poisoned planet. But the elites, being human, are not good at taking the long view.

The internet gives us new opportunities to take down the walls we have built. Rapid and radical climate change gives this project new urgency. Online, people can identify with other dog lovers, poets, or gardeners. One’s ethnicity, gender, and religion can begin to appear less relevant in these circles. Old associations give way to new. Meanwhile, racist, ethnic, and anti-LGBTQ violence reinforces the old boundaries. Hate crimes are committed by people who depend on those boundaries for their whole identities. The increasing violence points to the degree that such people feel threatened. Whenever there is peace, the old boundaries erode.

The Black Lives Matter movement drew in white as well as Black people, not just in the US but globally. The (nearly all peaceful) demonstrations centered on the suffering experienced by Black people for no reason except that their skin color put them on the wrong side of an imaginary wall. Earlier, the Occupy movement also spread around the world. Wealth is another imaginary wall that causes great suffering to people on the wrong side of it. In addition, the environmental movement and the #MeToo movement are global or in the process of becoming so. All these movements indicate that at least some people are beginning to see ourselves as human first, with every other aspect of ourselves being less significant than that primary, leveling, identity.

Every human is clearly a unique world unto themselves. Every human is also 99.9% exactly like every other human. If we focus only on the individual, we just see the actions of one person, subject to chance, a sort of Brownian motion, like the movements of a particular molecule. If we’re interested in the larger movements of our species, we have to consider that most obvious and invisible thing: our culture.

The paradox of being human is that the essence of our personality provides a through-line in our lives; we carry that essence with us, like a smell or a sound that only we can produce. Yet we change constantly. Every day brings us new experiences, and every experience changes us, becomes part of who we are, whether or not we think about it or remember it.

Imagine if we could see the connections between us. Every meeting would form a line. More meetings would make a stronger line. There would be lines between clerk and customer, police and criminal, writer and reader. Instead of a universe of separate points, we would see a dense network in which no point existed in isolation. The loneliest individual, after all, would not have survived infancy if someone had not fed them and wiped their bottom.

This dense network of connection, though impalpable, is who we are. This is the reality of our species. Like the individual, humanity has through-lines. The constant is human nature. The flux is culture, which never stays the same, one day to the next.

We can’t change human nature. We can, however, change culture. Everything we say or do changes the culture, as well as everything we buy, or boycott, everything we listen to, argue with, dismiss or support. In such small increments, the body of humanity moves. In what direction are we moving? Tiny cells in the body of our species, we can hardly tell. All any of us can do is move in any way we are able toward peace, sustainability, and justice. And hope.

Atheist’s Bible: Apocalypse

The Four Horsemen appear on the news every day: war, disease, famine, environmental catastrophe. Gee, who could have seen this coming? Whoever wrote the Book of Revelation two thousand years ago, for one. None of these things are exactly new in human experience. Since humanity decided to base our civilization on greed instead of compassion, this has been an easy prophecy to make.

The thing about prophecy is that it’s meant to scare people into changing our behavior. If it works, the direst predictions won’t come true. The prophecy makes the threat of extinction both vivid and immediate. We already know that our current path is not survivable. We just think we can keep going a little while longer, in spite of the evidence. Addicts need to “hit bottom” before they quit doing whatever is killing them. Has our society hit bottom yet?

Not the Neighborhood Watch

All our addictions – to drugs, to war, to fossil fuels, to accumulating stuff – stem from humanity’s central problem: how to keep from being ruled by the worst of us. The problem shows up in Putin’s aggression, Trump’s hatefulness, Big Oil’s continuing lies. The solution is not any single hero coming to save us. The solution is the best of us, working together.

Addicts endure going cold turkey through the love of friends and family, the encouragement of others in the same situation, and inner strength. The same things apply to all our addictions. If people can quit drinking, we can quit buying plastic junk. If one fragile, needy individual can stop smoking, this fragile, needy species can stop war.

Right now, the good guys are terribly disorganized. We’ve allowed ourselves to be separated by nationality, ethnicity, religion, gender identity. Even our do-gooder organizations are separated by the causes they support, as though peace and justice and environmental sustainability were not deeply interdependent.

National boundaries, financial wealth, and all the other barriers to our solidarity are products of human imagination. Apocalypse, on the other hand, is the furthest thing from imaginary. It will be the only reality if we remain divided behind those barriers instead of getting ourselves together.

Like it or not, this is our planet. It’s time we start owning it. Here’s another 2,000 year old prediction: the meek shall inherit the earth. If we do, it won’t be a moment too soon.

Panicking? Good.

Not a moment too soon.

Panic is a natural first response to the awareness of what a terrible spot humanity is in. Despair often follows the panic. We have to calm down, and cheer ourselves up, before we can get to the real, urgent, practical work of saving the world.

Human-caused climate change is happening faster than even the worst pessimists predicted. The fires, floods, and droughts scare more people all the time. We are beginning to understand the harm we have done to ourselves and this beautiful earth. If enough of us are afraid enough, we might change our behavior before it’s too late. In a way, fear is our only hope.

Some have moved from denial straight to despair. That is natural but convenient. Despair lets us off the hook. Why take the trouble to change if we’re doomed anyway? If we believe human survival is impossible, we won’t even try to fight. But it’s not impossible; it’s just unlikely. There’s a big difference.

We know what to do. Reduce, re-use, recycle; cut way down on fossil fuels, plastics, military spending, and meat; educate women world-wide to curb population growth; prepare for mass migrations; and so on. But how do we do any of this when most of us feel so powerless, and we seem stuck with the status quo?

We do it through changing a culture that glorifies violence and greed. Each of us creates our culture every day, in what we buy, where we go, what we communicate. When we make different choices, we change the culture.

We’ve built our present world by imagining every detail. Everything we see around us is a product of human imagination – in fact, of countless imaginings. Money, status, nations, religions: all of these things are imaginary. When we think about them differently, they change. Now we must imagine a sustainable world where humanity and other species can thrive.

This is a time to rally ourselves, not give up. As has been said, it doesn’t matter what we did. What matters is what we do once we know what we have done.

Not the 99% but the 100%

Ants, zebras, monkeys, snakes: each member of a species looks and acts pretty much like all the rest. They can tell one another apart, but we can’t, unless we study them closely. The differences are tiny; the similarities, vast.

The same goes for humans: each one of us is unique, but we’re as alike as snowflakes. No person’s history, character, or appearance is the same as any other’s. These variations are endlessly fascinating. We need them; they are how we tell one another apart. But they form only a tiny fraction of what we really are.

Science tells us that all humans are almost exactly the same. Day to day, we ignore that knowledge, though it explains a great deal.

Why can a good actor portray a wide range of characters? Why, when we go to the movies, does the whole audience agree on who is the good guy and who is the villain? Why do we laugh and gasp in the same places? How can good novelists get us to understand people we’ve never met, and who in fact do not exist?

Because people are pretty much all the same: variations on the theme of being human. Shouldn’t we be talking about this theme and not only its variations?

Our dominant culture emphasizes the individual — one’s career, one’s wealth, one’s behavior — even though these things usually matter only to that individual and perhaps a few relatives and friends. We pay much less attention to our behavior as a species. Yet it’s our bad behavior as a species, not as individuals, that is endangering the future of humanity.

There’s a lot of talk lately about “transhumanism,” the attempt to transcend human limits. I believe that before we can transcend humanism, we must achieve it.

The problems that threaten human survival arise from our refusal to acknowledge our behavior as a species rather than as individuals. The only solutions to them are global — in other words, species-wide.

The internet is revolutionizing global communications, maybe not a moment too soon. Now people can communicate across the world in real time. You don’t have to be rich to do so; all you need is access to an online device. The barriers of personal appearance, location, and circumstance vanish, leaving only your words, and images (mostly) of your choice. Being online is as close to becoming a spirit — transcending material limitations — as we are likely to get.

Of course we use the internet mostly for sex and music. This is typical behavior for our species. Without regulation, we also use it for insulting one another, showing off, lying, and gossiping. Also standard. We form interest groups; we make friends as well as enemies; we come to the aid of people in trouble.

What we don’t do online, at least not yet, is run the planet.

Right now, humanity is poorly organized for survival. So long as we primarily identify as members of subgroups like nations, religions, or ethnicities, we will find it hard to deal with problems that pertain to all those subgroups. Our organizations focus on issues specific to themselves and compete to place those issues above the rest. Even though, as individuals, most of us want to end hunger, war, and environmental devastation, our organizations have different priorities.

We are such a creative, adaptable species that we manage to live in every environment on earth, the deep sea, and outer space. The climate change our bad behavior has engendered is creating a new environment for us all. It’s impossible to predict whether, much less how, we will figure out how to survive this different world. If we survive, the global reach of the internet will have everything to do with it.

One thing is certain. However humanity re-organizes and adapts, everyone alive will be involved: not just the 1% global elite, or the 99% of us who do not have illusions of limitless power, but 100% of us. None of us stands alone. All of us need other people. Our individual lives will end one day. In the meantime, though it seems unlikely, don’t give up hope that humanity itself – our pattern, our theme, our weird and wonderful species  –  will find a way to endure.

Atheist’s Bible: The Meek

I was raised Jewish. The New Testament was off limits. When I got old enough to question why, I read the books, and became – not a Christian – but a fan of Jesus of Nazareth. He was a radical poet, a superb teacher, a lyrical rabbi. His words, his stories, his metaphors, moved and delighted me in a way that rarely happened when I studied Jewish lore in the Talmud.

What was so dangerous in the teachings of this great rabbi that his work was forbidden to Jews? He taught that the most important thing was to be kind to one another, not to follow the rules. This threatened the fabric of Judaism, knitted from thousands of strands of legal arguments, meant to cover the actions of Jews at all times. If one could put aside these historic threads, one would be, in effect, naked in the world. One would be the agent of one’s own actions rather than limited by the prescriptions and prohibitions of generations of wise men.

If the meek are going to inherit the earth, we should get ourselves organized.

In a system, or an anti-system, like the one Jesus proposed, every individual would be a free actor. Such a person might or might not choose to remain in the community built for protection and survival over the centuries. The rabbis, those living encyclopedias of rules and regulations, would be no more and no less than any other people except as they demonstrated compassion towards others, non-Jews as well as Jews. All would be equal in the sight of God.

What Jesus represented was a threat to the powers that be. In his day, those were the Sanhedrin, the council of rabbis, as well as the occupying army of the Romans. In the centuries to come, they were the Church, and the priests who claimed its power for themselves, as well as nation-states. He taught that souls were equal, even the souls of small children, and of women. What glory they could claim belonged to themselves alone, for their acts of kindness, and not for their service to organized religion. To counter such egalitarianism, the Church turned the words of Jesus into mysteries that could only be safely plumbed by priests, intermediaries trained by the Church. Ordinary people could not be trusted with the Word.

Jesus trusted ordinary people. He could have remained among the rabbis, a precocious scholar, rising to be powerful and important among the established leaders of his faith. Instead he hung out with prostitutes, drinkers, and gamblers, not to mention fishermen. He believed in the meek, the gentle, the powerless. He threatened the idea of corporal power itself. If you knew that all you needed to satisfy the only true Power in the universe was compassion, you would be less likely to submit to those who rule through fear. You would be free.

Nobody who has risen through a hierarchy of power likes people to be free. What would happen if the masses of people, the lowly ones, the meek, began to see themselves as equal to those who rule them? Every person who has fought for and gained power in an organization would feel a disturbance, shall we say, in the force. The few who use force would have to recognize the overwhelming numbers of the gentle. Such a change in public consciousness would shake not only religions but nations.

The rabbis knew Jesus was a threat. All hierarchical organizations know that he remains a threat. He didn’t believe in top-down power. He tried to awaken power in the grassroots, from the bottom up. He believed in people; he exalted the meek. What he preached was neither obedience nor resistance, but solidarity, the most revolutionary concept in a world designed to keep the meek under the knee of the powerful.

After Trump

When America defeated Trump, the whole world danced in the streets. We have faced fresh horror every day for four nightmarish years. All we got from the leader of the free world was lies, contempt, indifference to suffering, incitement to violence, and a quick descent into fascism. That’s almost over. Even though the plague Trump ignored rages more fiercely than ever, Americans deserve to celebrate for bringing him down.

So now what? Two more months of Trump doing as much harm as he can. Local stop-gap measures until national leadership can bring the virus to heel. Coming up on January 5th, there will be a crucial run-off election for two Georgia Senate seats. If Democrats lose even one of those seats, Senate leader Mitch McConnell will continue to block any help for increasingly desperate Americans and small businesses. McConnell could stop Biden from accomplishing much of anything at all.

But what has already changed is the mood. Trump made people despair. Now we feel like humanity might yet manage to survive. We know, however, that can only happen if we change the way we live, fast. Masks, distancing, and temporary shut-downs are part of our new way of life, maybe for a couple more years. The more basic change involves American consumerism.

The same capitalist system that produced Trump as its avatar has convinced us that we need new stuff all the time. That stuff requires energy to make and distribute. Burning fossil fuels to get that energy is broiling the whole planet on our watch. No alternate energy system can keep up with us if we don’t stop consuming at our present rate.

The current global economy assumes infinite growth, which is not health; it is cancer. Greed isn’t going anywhere. But basing our whole civilization on greed is killing us. We need to turn toward sharing instead of accumulating, toward healing instead of destroying, toward compassion instead of selfishness, toward making do with what we have instead of making more.

Such a turn depends on a change in our culture that no government can bring about by itself. Culture is formed by a billion choices made by individuals: what we watch, what we say, and what we buy. Already social media make clear that our attention – which can focus on only one thing at a time – is our most valuable asset. Let’s use this time of new hope to focus on things that nourish and heal us. Let’s make kindness fashionable.

Change isn’t up to Biden. It’s up to us.

Fear is a good start

duck and cover

I’ve been scared most of my life: of nuclear war, of hateful prejudice, of environmental destruction. I always wondered why other people weren’t scared too.

Now that so many more people are afraid — of COVID-19, of poverty, of climate catastrophe — I feel better. At last, we are beginning to face the consequences of the way humanity has behaved. That means there’s a chance we can change our behavior.

We have based our culture on greed and violence. This is no way to run a planet. We have been cutting down rainforests, the lungs of the earth, so we can have palm oil and hamburgers. Now the earth is heating up so fast, we’re afraid humanity can’t stay alive on it much longer.

The USA is showing the rest of the world what happens when you refuse to acknowledge reality. Trump insists the virus is a hoax, and basic safety measures are an attack on our freedoms. So hundreds of thousands of Americans are dying. Eventually, we will admit the only way to save our people is to wear masks and maintain distance everywhere we go. Meanwhile we will lose far too many. But we will learn.

The USA is also showing the world how to change the culture. Thanks to huge, nonviolent protests, the Black Lives Matter movement has finally made most Americans aware that racism is another deadly virus we all must fight. Black people have moved from fear to anger, from suffering to action. They have educated and mobilized their allies. This is how we make a difference: we do it together.

So do get afraid, my friends. Just don’t stay that way. This is a beautiful world. Humanity is worth saving: people can be awesomely kind and creative. It’s not individuals who are the problem, even Trump; it’s our cruel and selfish culture. Let’s get together and change it.

Saving ourselves

The US is in such terrible shape that lately, I’ve been writing only about this country. American media almost always do that, which helps to keep us ignorant. They give us the news they think we want to hear rather than what we need to know. Right now, we need to know why so many countries are dealing with COVID-19 so much better than we are.

This little blog is not the place to detail ways other nations are bending the curve and saving the lives of their residents. (One good article that does so is at https://time.com/5851633/best-global-responses-covid-19/) The methods vary, from severe lock-downs to widespread contact tracing. The only thing these nations have in common is that their leaders reacted to the virus quickly with action, generous use of public resources, and consistent messaging.

Of course in the US, our leader knew about the virus two months before he did anything at all. Since then, he has called the virus a hoax, refuses to wear a mask, won’t tell people to take simple precautions, cuts ties to scientists, cuts funds for testing, and keeps pushing states to re-open businesses and schools as though the virus has gone away even though he knows it’s spiking. Trump is killing Americans.

One thing we learn from watching other nations, and even from watching the US states that are keeping cases down, is that people can radically change our behavior when we know we must in order to survive. We change our work patterns, our child care arrangements, our social interactions, the way we shop and entertain ourselves. And we can make these changes literally overnight.

This is good to know. Because we as a species have a lot of changes to make, big changes that have to happen quickly if humanity is to survive. We have to stop using non-biodegradable plastic and fossil fuels, for example. We have to stop cutting down rainforests and start planting billions of trees. Keeping the planet habitable will require people to make much less stuff and use much less energy. This will be hard. But once we know that’s what we have to do, we can do it.

Without sane leadership, Americans are too confused to take effective action. We can begin to change that, this November. Then the real work of saving ourselves must begin.

People of Peace

Now is the time for people of good will
to join together to save all life.
Now is the time to act as brothers and sisters,
to be one people.


Now is the time to make peace.
Now is the time to join up,
all of us together,
one thing, the life force of our species,
nothing but human.

We’re in a tight spot.
Facing the danger means we’ll have to change.
We don’t like change. We like our habits,
all that’s familiar and comfortable.

We won’t change if we don’t have to.
But now we have to.
So we change.

We work from home.
We stop flying.
We drop the use of plastic.
We change for our children’s sake.

It took all the skill and energy our ancestors had
to survive hard times, to get us here.
Was all their work in vain?
Whatever they had to do to keep their children safe, they did.

So will we do now.
We are all strangers in this strange land
unless we are all family.

Hear one another,
help one another,
put your mask on,
keep a safe distance,
not from fear but from love,
O people of peace.


When Children Ask

Recently an eight-year-old asked me, Is this the Apocalypse? I answered from six feet away, through my mask, Probably not. This self-isolation won’t last forever. It will just feel that way. Besides, I said, Apocalypse means the end of the world as we know it. Maybe when the old world ends, a new world begins.

This child is indignant because people seem to have forgotten about climate change right now. That’s what concerns her most: the oceans rising, species disappearing. I tell her, People knew we had to stop using fossil fuels so we can slow down climate change, but we didn’t know how. Then the virus came along and made us stop driving and flying so much. We found out we could do it. That’s a good start.

I wanted to reassure her with a hug, not with words. Around the world, people are feeling a kind of phantom pain from not being able to hug our loved ones when we all need those hugs so badly. We’re writing, we’re calling, we’re Zooming, sending virtual hugs and kisses until the real things are possible again. This is a feature of the new world. The child is already comfortable with it.

When it’s safer, a month or two or however many down the road, I am going to hug this child so hard her bones will creak. Now we know how much it really means to be able to touch the people we love. We’ll bring that feature of the old one with us into our new world.