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The Best and the Dimmest

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The other day, changing clothes at the YMCA, I chatted with a delightful stranger, a twin in her fifties who apparently has never competed with her identical twin sister (and best friend) in anything. Not during their childhood, not as teenagers, not as wives and mothers, not even now since their kids had grown. I was flabbergasted.

 

In brutal contrast, I grew up in an extremely competitive household. My three sisters and I spent considerable youthful (and later, adult) energy attempting to best one another in every arena, whether trivial or significant. We carved our egos, our veriest identities, out of what shreds were left after thoroughly wrestling and wringing out every possible family title.

 

We gambled madly for the unpredictable prize of my parents’ attention and approval, and they thus unwittingly encouraged our many rivalries, although they also greatly wearied of our constant bickering. Probably they encouraged us to compete because they thought competition would make us strive for excellence. Or perhaps they generalized that, since competition in capitalism and on the athletic fields of battle was considered so wonderful, surely family competition must be good, too.

 

It isn’t.

 

Whether I “won” or “lost,” my sibling rivalries always left me feeling cold, mean, and alienated. When I triumphed over a sister in some area, I felt a little smug, and very guilty. When I came up short—much more often—I felt inadequate, resentful, defeatist, and again, lonely.

 

I’ve always been fascinated with twins and twin studies, so I peppered my new acquaintance with questions. I insisted that at the very least, she identify some little, unimportant area that she was now “better” at than her twin—some divergent hobby or lifetime interest, some skill so minor as baking a cake, for instance. No. She was adamant that she could think of no examples. None. Neither she nor her twin were superior in any achievements or endowments.

 

I concluded that either these twins had always eschewed comparisons as hurtful and unpleasant; or that their minds just didn’t work in these terms; or, perhaps, that competition was just not particularly interesting to them. Gwen ventured to guess that maybe it was a combination of all three. In any case, no, they had never competed, probably never would, she had never thought about it before, and had never been asked about it, to her knowledge.

 

Wow. In my family, identical twins, on exactly equal genetic starting lines, would have relished the challenge and competed at absolutely everything. I wonder how happily that would have turned out?

 

Either way, Gwen and Jackie’s delightfully mutually supportive and sharing relationship has to be preferable to whatever unfriendly rivalry we would have come up with in our family.

 

Now I’m wondering if perhaps all competition is a bad thing….

 

Having been reared in a family (and culture) which greatly values competition, I never really considered how harmful it might be for me, for my family of birth, my own children, or even for American citizens and other “competing” nations. I’ve never thought about how useless competition really is, especially considering its costs, considering what is lost. Yet few other cultures, many far more ancient, value competition in the way Americans do. Certainly, for that reason, if for no other, we should question the value of competition.

 

If I were raising my own children again now, I would frown on any hint of competitiveness “against” one another, and make sure they understood that friendly competition was a kind gift from someone else who was helping them in their struggle to better themselves. I would do my best to guide my kids to strive for their own personal bests, reserving their comparisons and judgments only for their own goals for self-improvement. I would try to help them see how harmful competition can be to relationships, and how it can also be mutually supportive (as when one encourages others in their striving for self-improvement) or really unkind and hurtful (“besting” or beating someone.)

 

I’ve even come around to wondering whether the loftily unassailable idea of competition-as-intrinsic-to-capitalism, is harmful. We must work hard to convey the message that the only moral competition is the friendly kind that is mutually supportive in helping one another strive for excellence, because the fruits of unfriendly competition are always sad ones—envy, anger, resentment, even for the “victor,” who must also contend with dangerous feelings of overreaching, pride, and arrogance.

 

Here’s what I’ve decided: whenever we compete “against” another, whether as individuals, groups, or nations, that competition works against our highest goals, ideals, and purposes. Any time we move away from simple, personal or cooperative effort, towards something as mean-spirited as hurtful competition, we move toward erasure of mankind’s highest ethical standard, the “golden rule”— treating others as we would like to be treated—and move instead toward “all’s fair in love and war,” a smarmy slogan which conveniently discards morality and ethics as low-priority whenever something newly urgent feels at stake.

 

If U.S. capitalism has worked well in the past, it’s not because of business competition, but because people with freedom and opportunities and resources have pursued excellence, which springs only from friendly competition, which springs from cooperative values such as caring, fairness, and honesty, and personal virtues like hard work and perseverance.

 

Abuse of the idea of competition provides us with a too-handy mask, an illusion of moral nobility or superiority, for the times when we want to feel good about running roughshod over someone else, to get what we want.

 

Our most amazing athletes and athletic competitions are so wonderful because unique individuals like Lance Armstrong and Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods surround themselves with other great athletes in order to challenge themselves—to continually strive for excellence, to achieve their own personal bests, their own highest standards—not to conquer or best someone else.

 

Since I’ve met the twins, I’ve withdrawn my support from any competitions—whether in families, sports, business, or politics, whether local or global—that divide, separate, or polarize relationships, organizations, or nations.

 

Because such unfriendly competition, apparently, has never improved anything—not a single relationship, not a single enterprise on this tiny, fragile, interconnected planet, where every thing we do impacts everyone else, where every thing we think touches every other mind, and where we share the very air we breathe and every drop we drink.

 

Please send comments to epharmon@adelphia.net

 

 

 

 

 

Another Holocaust?

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When Hitler painted all Jews everywhere with his hate-filled brush, many people were caught up in his scary “logic,” and the result was a Holocaust. Today’s Jews should be the group least susceptible to the rampant prejudice that is currently damning all of Islam with sweeping fear-based generalizations. The lesson of the Holocaust for all of us is never again should anyone buy into paranoia and bigotry concerning a whole people, culture, religion, ethnicity, or lifestyle.

 

Yet, here we go again.

 

If you don’t like some Muslims (or Jews or Chinese or Hutus …) well, that’s human. But if you hate and fear most (Muslims) because you think they’re all pretty much the same, that’s ignorance and prejudice.

 

It’s simply not true that most Muslims are quarrelsome, narrow-minded, blood-thirsty fanatics out to dominate the world. Yet I have recently heard that repugnant argument for war from Jews and Christians alike.

 

Of course we’re all frightened, Muslims too. But violent extremists are found in every culture. America had its own bloody civil war, not to mention lynchings, attacks on civil rights marchers and labor unions, gang wars, office and schoolyard shootings, rapes, widespread child and domestic abuse, crime, and murder. We have our own home-grown steady supply of trigger-happy nutcases, D.C. snipers, Unabombers, and Oklahoma terrorists, all continually egged on into fear and violence by faithless media demagogues and opportunistic politicians, in just the same way that Hitler once terrified the German citizenry into insanity.

 

FDR gently reminded us that the only thing we have to fear is: fear, itself. During this difficult time, may we have cool heads, loving hearts, open minds, and an abiding faith in the golden rule, so that we may respect and support all of God’s beloved children, everywhere.

 

Transfixed by Lost in Translation

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Lost in Translation is my (all-time) favorite movie. With so many sad movies about sexual exploitation floating around, it’s a refresher to see two nice, interesting people exchange such powerful, passionate, platonic gifts during a brief, innocent time, without taking advantage of or hurting one another, and leaving one another happier and stronger.

 

Sofia Coppola’s complex, beautiful, diverse sensibilities drench each frame with implications… revelations… perturbations…. Like all perfect movies, this one is rich, deep, lavishly-textured, and gorgeously-layered. Coppola adds not a questionable jot nor extraneous tittle, and leaves out nothing necessary to her narrative or contemplation. She attends masterfully to imagery, editing, framing, character, dialogue, tension, narrative, symbol, improvisation, serendipity…a small sampling of her range of talents, may she live long and prosper in the movie-making business.

 

I lived for a few childhood years in Tokyo during the American post-war occupation, and took away beautiful, evanescent impressions, so perhaps I’m more susceptible to the delights of this movie than your typical movie-goer. Watching Lost in Translation, I'm enchanted both by remembered charms and recent technological innovations, as well as by the awkward Japanese embrace of things western.

 

Lost in Translation is perfectly titled, because Copolla shines her tragicomic vision on the challenges each of us, no matter how talented or well-intentioned, face in communicating, caring, and empathizing across the mile-high/-wide/-deep chasm of human individual differences. Copolla’s laser gaze scintillates not only cultural barriers such as language and custom, but universal obstacles as well—differences in gender, age, social class, lifestyle, goals, values, interests, backgrounds, personalities—and even the molehills and mountains of distance and time.

 

Lost in Translation is hilarious, even more-so for Japanophiles. I’ve seen it many times, and still am cajoled into explosive snorts. Like any great lover, Copolla brings knowledge, appreciation, honesty, and a creative, playful intimacy to the peculiar amusements and benefits of relating to the Japanese. Japanese culture has its many endearing and frustrating quirks, as do all cultures; Copolla chooses to laugh equally good-naturedly and respectfully at eastern and western pecadilloes.

 

I cannot imagine a soundtrack more thoughtfully selected or edited in support of the shifting impressions, emotions, and experiences Coppola develops in each new scene.

 

Bill Murray’s unique talents are all on glorious display, as are Scarlett Johannsen’s equally bounteous ones, which have an umplumbable feel to them. She defiantly withholds an illusive, precious, sensuous little secret—like Garbo’s, like Monroe’s—whose unveiling the world will breathlessly await forever. Casting Johannsen, like casting Gwyneth Paltrow, will elevate any movie. Only great direction can account for the consistent quality of all the other “smaller” performances.

 

The fact that anyone could enjoy this movie on the level of a simple, poignant, romantic comedy should not detract from its value as a multifaceted meditation upon the human challenges inherent in connecting with any “other”—whether in “translating” one’s self to another, or in meaningfully “translating” another’s mysterious mumblings and gestures in our own direction. Far too often, we are left feeling all alone in the world throughout most of our lives, feeling quite “lost in translation.”

 

Please send your comments to epharmon@adelphia.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zzzipppiddee Doooo Daaahh….

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What a difference perspective makes…. Whenever I'm feeling blue or resisting something that just “is,”  I try to remember to ask God for another way of looking at the person or situation–and I always receive what I ask for (it helps to pay attention and be ready for the answer.) I drew this comic strip soon after one of those happy moments when I'd received such an answer to a prayer. I remember feeling resentful, feeling like an old ugly lonesome drudge, about some housework I had to do, and praying, as I looked out the window, for another way of seeing my present situation. Suddenly I focused on a bird “working” for her brood, but nothing could have been more natural, beautiful, purposeful, or right than that little brown bird doing her thing for her family. Renewed with my wonderful answer to my prayer, I went back to work–this time joyfully.

Please send comments to epharmon@adelphia.net

 

 

 

 

 

(Two) Scenes We'd Like To See

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(Two) Scenes We'd Like To See….

 

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Both George Bush and Osama Bin Laden are vilified in various cultures as inhuman heartless killers, while other cultures hero-worship them as charismatic and patriotic leaders whose just causes “force” them to manfully take up arms—whether by terrorism or military force—to achieve their political aims.

 

Popular media in all nations dehumanize public enemies, and often turn around and just as thoroughly and miraculously restore them to dignity and respectability during political détentes. I recall my astonishment, moral conflict, and deep embarrassment, when the evil Russians I’d been so carefully taught to indignantly and self-righteously hate and fear, magically became our homeboys overnight. The same thing happened, of course, with the “Krauts” and the “Japs,” who, just as we were assured by our government after a terrible war, turned out to be, really, just like us. I’d like to think the same thing will happen, sooner rather than later, between Islam and the West.

 

I wish these two particular men (Bush and Bin Laden) could learn to resolve their differences without violence. They remind me of unsocialized playground children, throwing sand in each others’ faces, playing with their war toys, acting like swaggering thugs and cowards in turn, always foolish and hurtful to all around them. I wish they <?xml:namespace prefix = v ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml” />would grow up and solve their problems like civilized adults.

 

So many innocents have endured so much tragic death and destruction, on both sides, for so many years. For what…?!

 

Of course, both men have legitimate grievances which want airing and remedying…but nobody ever listens to anyone. Probably both sides were too proud or stupid or politically corrupt to listen before, and now everyone’s too mad to even think about the needs and sorrows of the other side. As the Buddha has said, “Hatred never ends through hatred. Hatred ends only through love.”

 

I do think President Bush is a patriot who means well. I also think he’s misled, misinformed, and dishonest with the American public. I think Bin Laden is also probably well-intentioned, although equally tragically violently-disposed. Both are a little crazy or they wouldn’t be acting like that.

 

Bin Laden repeatedly and clearly has stated his political aims  at every opportunity–he wants the empire-inclined U.S. out of Islam, not to return until invited, and then, only as well-behaved, courteous guests. Bin Laden certainly achieved an impressive political bang from his small PR buck (a handful of airborne terrorists, compared with our $500 billion spent in military retaliation) considering that his goal was to force the U.S. public to become informed about and reconsider its Middle East policies. But neither “price” begins to describe the total costs to both sides. There has to be a better way to resolve conflict….

 

I’m not exactly sure what President Bush has accomplished, his recent clumsy conversion to nation-building notwithstanding. Indeed he loves democracy and freedom, but he struggles with complexity (please read my other blogs on this and other related subjects at www.epharmony.com ….) Both men should have tried to understand one another’s culture before they started knocking heads and throwing weight around. For the future, we need to legislate some mechanisms that insure that seasoned statesmen and other experts inform and influence the foreign policy decisions of presidents and other popular politicians.

 

Can you imagine what all that wasted money might have bought, on both sides, if it had instead been earmarked for cherished goals dear to the hearts of citizens of Iraq, Afghanistan and the United States?

 

I hate politics.

 

Historians get to write the history books, so tend to salute bloody victors as heroes, while labeling bloody losers “crazed maniacs.” But shouldn’t we all be past all of that now? For goodness sake, it’s the 21st century and we should all know better by now. There are so much better ways to achieve political goals and solve differences than through violence. It’s time to put away childish things.

 

Mad Magazine's section called “Scenes We’d Like To See” inspired the frame of this satire. Although it is unlikely that these two particular men will overcome their personal and political differences and lead their followers to peace, it would sure be nice if they did. Someday, somebody will, you know. The only question is, how long will it take? And how many more ruined lives will it cost, on both sides, before that day comes?

 

Somehow we must get testosterone out of politics.

 

Only peaceful dialogue and patient listening can bring East and West together in mutual understanding, appreciation, and support.

 

Kipling’s “The Ballad of East and West” was a childhood favorite of mine. I first envisioned a satirical retelling of this poem set in the wild mountains bordering Pakistan, Afghanistan, and India, substituting Bush for the Colonel’s son and Bin Laden for Kamal, the Border Thief, letting these two silly, self-important, reckless, macho guys go at it, chasing each other “up and over the tongue of Jagai as blown dustdevils go…” until Bush’s horse falls “at a watercourse, in a woful heap fell he, and (Bin Laden) has turned the red mare back and pulled the rider free.”

 

He has knocked the pistol out of his hand–small room was there to strive

“‘Twas only be favor of mine,” quoth he, “ye rode so long alive:

There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree

But covered a man of my own men, with his rifle cocked on his knee….”

 

 (But… no. I’ll let you read the original yourself, reprinted below.)

 

I decided, instead, to play with the idea of these two men generously agreeing to a campout retreat at Bush’s beloved ranch. One can always dream. I’ve always been deeply moved by the final courage evidenced by the Colonel’s son and Kamal, the Border Thief, in pledging to respect one another’s strengths and common humanity.

 

I didn’t mean to pick on the New York Times or AlJazeera, both wonderful, principled  newspapers; their names were just convenient symbols for media-in-general, and I apologize if this satire unintentionally insulted them.

 

I also abused the current popularity of Brokeback Mountain to make my political points. However, while I’m sure that a week of roughing it alone/together in the mountains would create dialogue, understanding, and maybe even camaraderie between these two men, I’m confident that they’re both firmly and happily set, by now, in their hetero ways. Although, to be sure, nothing surprises me anymore. Maybe someday we really will see these two happily mountain biking together in Afghanistan. As I said, nothing ever surprises me anymore.

 

You may call me a dreamer, but I’m not the only one….

 

Only deeply spiritual leadership can unify the planet’s five polarized cultures—Africans, South Americans, China, the Muslim world, and the West. Only idealistic leadership can inspire each of these cultures to achieve its own unique ideals, hopes, and dreams, while respecting and supporting the quality of human life everywhere. Only non-violent leadership can address the century’s most urgent problems—the ravages of disease, injustice, hopelessness, greed, hunger, environmental degradation, natural disasters, ignorance, addiction, prejudice, nuclear proliferation, crime, poverty, war, terrorism, and yes, violence, itself.

 

Reprinted below, as I promised, is the lovely original Rudyard Kipling adventure ballad….

 

 

The Ballad of East and West

By Rudyard Kipling

 

 

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,

Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;

But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,

When two strong men stand face to face,

tho' they come from the ends of the earth!

 

Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border-side,

And he has lifted the Colonel's mare that is the Colonel's pride:

He has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and the day,

And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away.

Then up and spoke the Colonel's son that led a troop of the Guides:

“Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal hides?”

Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of the Ressaldar:

“If ye know the track of the morning-mist, ye know where his pickets are.

At dusk he harries the Abazai—at dawn he is into Bonair,

But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to fare,

So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can fly,

By the favour of God ye may cut him off ere he win to the Tongue of Jagai.

But if he be past the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly turn ye then,

For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain is sown with Kamal's men.

There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,

And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen.”

The Colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw rough dun was he,

With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell

and the head of the gallows-tree.

The Colonel's son to the Fort has won, they bid him stay to eat—

Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not long at his meat.

He 's up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he can fly,

Till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of the Tongue of Jagai,

Till he was aware of his father's mare with Kamal upon her back,

And when he could spy the white of her eye, he made the pistol crack.

He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball went wide.

“Ye shoot like a soldier,” Kamal said. “Show now if ye can ride.”

It 's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as blown dustdevils go,

The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe.

The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head above,

But the red mare played with the snaffle-bars, as a maiden plays with a glove.

There was rock to the left and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,

And thrice he heard a breech-bolt snick tho' never a man was seen.

They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hoofs drum up the dawn,

The dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare like a new-roused fawn.

The dun he fell at a water-course—in a woful heap fell he,

And Kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the rider free.

He has knocked the pistol out of his hand—small room was there to strive,

“'Twas only by favour of mine,” quoth he, “ye rode so long alive:

There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree,

But covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee.

If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low,

The little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all in a row:

If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high,

The kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly.”

Lightly answered the Colonel's son: “Do good to bird and beast,

But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast.

If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away,

Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could pay.

They will feed their horse on the standing crop,

their men on the garnered grain,

The thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain.

But if thou thinkest the price be fair,—thy brethren wait to sup,

The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn,—howl, dog, and call them up!

And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack,

Give me my father's mare again, and I 'll fight my own way back!”

Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet.

“No talk shall be of dogs,” said he, “when wolf and gray wolf meet.

May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath;

What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn with Death?”

Lightly answered the Colonel's son: “I hold by the blood of my clan:

Take up the mare for my father's gift—by God, she has carried a man!”

The red mare ran to the Colonel's son, and nuzzled against his breast;

“We be two strong men,” said Kamal then, “but she loveth the younger best.

So she shall go with a lifter's dower, my turquoise-studded rein,

My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain.”

The Colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-end,

“Ye have taken the one from a foe,” said he;

“will ye take the mate from a friend?”

“A gift for a gift,” said Kamal straight; “a limb for the risk of a limb.

Thy father has sent his son to me, I 'll send my son to him!”

With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain-crest—

He trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest.

“Now here is thy master,” Kamal said, “who leads a troop of the Guides,

And thou must ride at his left side as shield on shoulder rides.

Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed,

Thy life is his—thy fate it is to guard him with thy head.

So, thou must eat the White Queen's meat, and all her foes are thine,

And thou must harry thy father's hold for the peace of the Border-line,

And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to power—

Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am hanged in Peshawur.”

 

They have looked each other between the eyes, and there they found no fault,

They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on leavened bread and salt:

They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on fire and fresh-cut sod,

On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and the Wondrous Names of God.

The Colonel's son he rides the mare and Kamal's boy the dun,

And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where there went forth but one.

And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, full twenty swords flew clear—

There was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of the mountaineer.

“Ha' done! ha' done!” said the Colonel's son.

“Put up the steel at your sides!

Last night ye had struck at a Border thief—

to-night 'tis a man of the Guides!”

 

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,

Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;

But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,

When two strong men stand face to face,

tho' they come from the ends of the earth!

 

 

Please send comments to epharmon@adelphia.net

 

 

 

We Need Not Add to the Sum of Human Injustice

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The Washington Post reports that soon after 9/11, President Bush established secret CIA prisons in foreign countries, and authorized agents there to rescind the human rights of captured suspected terrorists, and to subject them to cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment. I remember when many Americans thought Soviet-style KGB undercover skullduggery and thuggery sufficient proof that the Russians were “the bad guys….”

 

The 21st century is a risky time for everyone; however, not all nations are targets of international terrorism. The safest countries today aren’t those brandishing the biggest sticks, but rather those courageously upholding impeccable international reputations for humility, fairness and diplomacy.

 

Secret government agencies can turn on their own citizenry; power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. We wouldn’t need a judiciary if it were always obvious who the bad guys are. Courts are instituted to protect presumed innocents—even suspected terrorists caught in the act, even our own “strange” citizens who may seem guilty—until their guilt is proven by a court of law. If any individual is excepted from due process, if any person can be held above or below the law, then we have no rule of law.

 

We can’t prevent more 9/11’s, save our soldiers, or keep our grandchildren safe, as long as we keep adding to the number of our envious, frightened, angry enemies. It is up to American citizens to risk peace, not war; to risk caring, not fear; to risk generosity, not hate. We can elect proven statesmen to lead our country, and together offer to citizens of all nations the high moral ground of a sound spiritual and ethical example.

 

Our most powerful “weapon” is our national reputation. As long as the U.S. is seen as a rich, selfish country careless of human welfare and disrespectful of international opinion, no stirring words, no proud history, and certainly no amount of spending on intelligence and defense can protect us from our multiplying enemies.

 

Along with the rest of our fellow-earthlings, Americans risk suffering terrible injustices during this best and worst of all possible centuries. However, we need never choose to add to the sum of human injustice.

 

Please send comments to epharmon@adelphia.net .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do You Know This Man?

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Click on my latest posting, a quiz/drawing/political cartoon called “Soldier,” on the left side of this blog…. So what do you think?

epharmon@adelphia.net

Thanks, eppy

 

 

 

How to Polish Up America's Image Abroad

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When I was a child, living in Tokyo after the war as part of the American occupation army, we took every opportunity to visit Japanese shrines, gardens, and teahouses, to learn to play Japanese games, sing their songs, speak their language, to watch traditional kabuki plays and join in national celebrations such as Boys Day, cherry-blossom viewing, and fireworks on New Year’s Eve.

 

Despite the fact that we were no doubt perceived as representatives of a conquering nation by everyday Japanese folk, who must have seen us as responsible for their currently grave economic depression, the destruction of their cities, and the humbling of their leaders, nevertheless, our family’s irrepressible enthusiasm, respect for and interest in Japanese culture was gradually reciprocated by our neighbors’ gentle curiosity about our own “odd” customs—our funny Indian-and-Pilgrim Thanksgiving celebrations, our ghost-and-scarecrow Halloweens, our mysteriously compulsive habit of singing off-key Christmas carols at the tops of our lungs all over our neighborhood at Christmastime….

 

America’s best chance for gaining international respect and understanding will be to increase our own respect and understanding for all other cultures—for their histories, values, traditions, customs, styles, religions, concerns and problems, and their political and economic approaches and ways of life—through more extensive teaching of all forms of acceptance at all levels of schooling—and through more Americans (perhaps our most  influential cultural leaders, such as Limbaugh, Robertson, and Cheney?) traveling to other countries, living with ordinary folk, listening, learning, asking questions, opening their hearts, and marching in solidarity with them at their own sad national commemorations of tragic losses stemming from political violence of all kinds, whether terrorism, assassinations, espionage, or war.

 

Furthermore, since we already direct a lot of tax money toward other countries (but always for U.S. goals) why don't we find out from global citizens (not governments) what's uniquely most important to their countries (projects, problems, goals…) and give generously toward those projects?

 

Only when we’re willing to polish up both our image and our reality as a country that is respectful, appreciative and generously supportive of the unique cultures, values and concerns of other nations, then (and only then) will we have some hope for an image abroad as an informed, compassionate nation worthy of the interest, compassion and support of others.

 

Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Treat others as you want them to treat you. This golden rule is the only basis for any relationship—whether personal or international—that ever works.