Blind Faith in Government
by Virginia Hoffman
published by Progressive Trail
There’s a tendency to believe that those we identify as our own would never do something heinous or despicable. They are, after all, who we are, their essence is the core of our being, and since we could never imagine ourselves doing such things, no one in our core group could possibly deviate so far from what we all hold dear. If a transgression is seen, it is never mentioned publicly, lest we expose our people to the censure of the outsiders, those we’re sure would love to destroy us. The outsiders are those who function to negatively define identity—we are not that group—and who function as the common enemy, the rallying cry to stir group loyalty. We must never let them see a vulnerable point they can attack. This commitment to secrecy is in inverse proportion to the fear and hatred of the outsiders. The pattern is a sign of a closed system. The line of demarcation is solid and stark. The conviction that all insiders are right, coupled with fear and disdain of all others as wrong, keeps a wall of isolation and secrecy in place. So to protect all we deem holy, we can never even consider, much less publicly admit, that one of us has done what we, in defining ourselves, disown. These tenets kept the Catholic pedophilia crisis a secret for generations. In the past, unquestioned certainty of belonging to the right group was buttressed by scorn for all who were not. Sex was hush-hush; raping children was truly unthinkable. Even if someone discovered such an act—it must certainly be an isolated act!—it could not be disclosed for fear that the shame and utter humiliation would get in the way of the holy work the rest of the community was doing. If the world is divided into two camps, perfect and evil, one must keep the appearance of perfection or be pilloried by one’s enemy. Even after the scandal broke, and the numbers were staggering, some said that the reports were lies told by those who were “out to get the church.” Blind faith. The same core beliefs keep many in the US from considering what might have motivated our government to invade Iraq, what they knew before 9/11, what directions were given for treatment of prisoners, and what damage has been done by decades of US foreign policy in the Middle East. Our leaders wouldn’t kill for oil, they wouldn’t lie about something so important, wouldn’t deploy our sons and daughters for their profit. They must be acting to protect us, must have our good at heart. What’s the antidote for blind faith? A wide understanding of history. But national and religious groups tend to keep better track of their martyrs than of those they have martyred. Parochial schools in the 50s and before taught the gory way each Christian martyr met his or her demise, but not the stories of those burned by the Inquisition. TV and movies portrayed the US cavalry “protecting our frontier” against the “savages,” but not the decimation or complete extinction of indigenous peoples. Other stories simply did not exist. Nowhere did we hear of the conquest of Cuba (the USS Maine, of “Remember the Maine,” was never attacked), the Philippines, Guam, Hawaii and Panama by greed for their land, resources or strategic value. So it took some of us a while to come to grips with lies about Viet Nam (the “Gulf of Tonkin attack” didn’t happen either). And no sooner had we crawled through the mire of what the brutality and bravado of war did to the psyches of soldiers in the Tiger Force and at My Lai, than many were ready to bury the evidence and drown out what we had learned with a good Sousa march. History, if it’s gleaned from multiple sources (not just the “winners”), if it includes the wanton carnage as well as liberation, torturers and rapists as well as heroes, is a sobering study. It takes away the easy certainty we had as children, that our people are always right, that all they do must be for the greater good, and that everyone they label “enemy” is less human and has no valid cause. It takes away the comfort of settling down in an easy explanation, since in the past those have covered some ugly deeds. A wider sense of history doesn’t preclude heroes, but often proclaims different ones, and adds nuances to the stories. Most important, it precludes blind faith, conveys humility grounded in our own truth, and allows us to listen to the real needs of real people, whoever or wherever they are. If some trusted church leaders (or family friends, or even family members) can present two faces, can be admired and compassionate with some, and perpetrate sexual abuse with others, might it at least be a possibility that some trusted elected officials, even if they’re our people, might perpetrate domestic and international abuse as well? And if that is a possibility—the accusations are there—isn’t an “investigation” by political insiders the equivalent of letting Cardinal Law investigate sex abuse in Boston? Wouldn’t it be the more responsible choice to conduct a thorough investigation now, using rigorous methods and impartial examiners, than to wait while more soldiers, more prisoners, more countries may be made victims? Apologies decades from now will not replace what’s being lost. Ask any survivor.
by Virginia Hoffman
published by Progressive Trail
There’s a tendency to believe that those we identify as our own would never do something heinous or despicable. They are, after all, who we are, their essence is the core of our being, and since we could never imagine ourselves doing such things, no one in our core group could possibly deviate so far from what we all hold dear. If a transgression is seen, it is never mentioned publicly, lest we expose our people to the censure of the outsiders, those we’re sure would love to destroy us. The outsiders are those who function to negatively define identity—we are not that group—and who function as the common enemy, the rallying cry to stir group loyalty. We must never let them see a vulnerable point they can attack. This commitment to secrecy is in inverse proportion to the fear and hatred of the outsiders. The pattern is a sign of a closed system. The line of demarcation is solid and stark. The conviction that all insiders are right, coupled with fear and disdain of all others as wrong, keeps a wall of isolation and secrecy in place. So to protect all we deem holy, we can never even consider, much less publicly admit, that one of us has done what we, in defining ourselves, disown. These tenets kept the Catholic pedophilia crisis a secret for generations. In the past, unquestioned certainty of belonging to the right group was buttressed by scorn for all who were not. Sex was hush-hush; raping children was truly unthinkable. Even if someone discovered such an act—it must certainly be an isolated act!—it could not be disclosed for fear that the shame and utter humiliation would get in the way of the holy work the rest of the community was doing. If the world is divided into two camps, perfect and evil, one must keep the appearance of perfection or be pilloried by one’s enemy. Even after the scandal broke, and the numbers were staggering, some said that the reports were lies told by those who were “out to get the church.” Blind faith. The same core beliefs keep many in the US from considering what might have motivated our government to invade Iraq, what they knew before 9/11, what directions were given for treatment of prisoners, and what damage has been done by decades of US foreign policy in the Middle East. Our leaders wouldn’t kill for oil, they wouldn’t lie about something so important, wouldn’t deploy our sons and daughters for their profit. They must be acting to protect us, must have our good at heart. What’s the antidote for blind faith? A wide understanding of history. But national and religious groups tend to keep better track of their martyrs than of those they have martyred. Parochial schools in the 50s and before taught the gory way each Christian martyr met his or her demise, but not the stories of those burned by the Inquisition. TV and movies portrayed the US cavalry “protecting our frontier” against the “savages,” but not the decimation or complete extinction of indigenous peoples. Other stories simply did not exist. Nowhere did we hear of the conquest of Cuba (the USS Maine, of “Remember the Maine,” was never attacked), the Philippines, Guam, Hawaii and Panama by greed for their land, resources or strategic value. So it took some of us a while to come to grips with lies about Viet Nam (the “Gulf of Tonkin attack” didn’t happen either). And no sooner had we crawled through the mire of what the brutality and bravado of war did to the psyches of soldiers in the Tiger Force and at My Lai, than many were ready to bury the evidence and drown out what we had learned with a good Sousa march. History, if it’s gleaned from multiple sources (not just the “winners”), if it includes the wanton carnage as well as liberation, torturers and rapists as well as heroes, is a sobering study. It takes away the easy certainty we had as children, that our people are always right, that all they do must be for the greater good, and that everyone they label “enemy” is less human and has no valid cause. It takes away the comfort of settling down in an easy explanation, since in the past those have covered some ugly deeds. A wider sense of history doesn’t preclude heroes, but often proclaims different ones, and adds nuances to the stories. Most important, it precludes blind faith, conveys humility grounded in our own truth, and allows us to listen to the real needs of real people, whoever or wherever they are. If some trusted church leaders (or family friends, or even family members) can present two faces, can be admired and compassionate with some, and perpetrate sexual abuse with others, might it at least be a possibility that some trusted elected officials, even if they’re our people, might perpetrate domestic and international abuse as well? And if that is a possibility—the accusations are there—isn’t an “investigation” by political insiders the equivalent of letting Cardinal Law investigate sex abuse in Boston? Wouldn’t it be the more responsible choice to conduct a thorough investigation now, using rigorous methods and impartial examiners, than to wait while more soldiers, more prisoners, more countries may be made victims? Apologies decades from now will not replace what’s being lost. Ask any survivor.
posted by BLONDIE at 10:55 AM
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