I was recently reflecting on Vaclav Havel‘s essay “The Power of the Powerless.” Acts of living in truth are critical for recovering power from those that have stolen it and are using it for oppressive purposes. Havel’s work has long inspired me and underpins the basis of how I see good dialogic work and participatory leadership. Small democratic acts of participation,collaboration, co-creation, inclusion and relationship are critical. There is no scale at which these are not critical if one values a world in which we participate together in building a future that serves all.
I was quite startled to hear Mark Carney quote Havel yesterday in his speech in Davos. Carney told some truths for which he is rightly being lauded. But as a Prime Minister he has a lot of work to do to build a society here at home where the most vulnerable don’t get steamrolled for the expediency of his large scale power moves.
I believe a lot of things can and must happen simultaneously to act within a world which has had much uncertainty and unpredictability introduced to it so quickly.
I am not prepared to give up a hope for a world of participatory and relational power alliances, especially here in Canada and especially with First Nations (seek out Christi Belcourt’s writing on this on Facebook, if you dare) I understand the need for speed but I also caution us all not to set aside things like justice, sustainability, and inclusion of the otherwise marginalized at the table lest we build the new system based on emergency measures and forget to be a society that stays committed to human rights, justice and environmental care, even if we don’t always get that right. I don’t believe one negates the other.
Doubling down on AI, defense, and fossil fuel energy production takes us towards a future where the wealth will be generated for the few who currently have the power with resources that are non renewable. Communities and ecosystems will be devastated as the costs are externalized for more generations. What assurances are there that these moves will build better and more resilient societies? Who will be asked to sacrifice for this future? Will we both defend ourselves from larger powers so that we can build a long term and effective education and health care system? Where we support and build up our natural ecosystems.
I don’t have answers. But I ask, what other ways can we align middle power nations that is built on the strength of relationship and long term care for people and planet? If the global system of power and economics needs to be realigned, what is the range of choices we have? How might we expand that range?
Carney has achieved what the entrepreneurs coveted “first mover’s advantage.” As a Canadian, based on the policy decisions he has made domestically, I am unsure how he will use it. In his speech his lauds his domestic accomplishments:
Since my government took office, we have cut taxes on incomes, on capital gains and business investment. We have removed all federal barriers to interprovincial trade. We are fast-tracking a trillion dollars of investment in energy, AI, critical minerals, new trade corridors and beyond
And yet. Every provincial health care system in Canada is currently in a crisis. Affordability continues to price an entire generation out of their start in the world. Our post-secondary education systems are failing because we underfunded them, forced them to rely on high paying international students, and then stopped that immigration program. Wealth inequality is the biggest threat to our survival as a democracy. And yet we still cut taxes.
I can envisage a dystopian world where AI, oil and weapons are the currency that just gets spent in a hyperscaled and hegemonic battle for supremacy among the few. What can the rest of us expect from this?
Yesterday Carney said “You cannot “live within the lie” of mutual benefit through integration when integration becomes the source of your subordination.” That is true. And yet does he not see to see how his latest moves to fast track projects like an oil pipeline to the west coast reflect exactly this approach via a vis First Nations?
Carney also said “if you are not at the table you are on the menu.” That is a chilling statement to me because, despite the outpouring of pride and excitement about how he named the current global order, what he is proposing puts most of us on the menu. Carney’s commitment to a doubling down of neoliberal principles as the basis of his invitation to fight does nothing to address the pressing challenges faced by most of the victims of the global experiment of the last 45 years. I hope he changes that stance but I don’t think he will.
It is no surprise to most of us in Canada that Carney has become a fairly traditional “progressive conservative.” Most of us voted for him because he was preferable to the current conservative party’s populism which was based on outrage baiting and very little cogent policy. Things have become so bad in the world that we missed Brian Mulroney.
As for Havel, his wisdom is perennial. Carney’s speech is good but I encourage you all to read Havel. Just because the Prime Minister quoted him does not mean that the rest of us don’t need his strategy and tactics. We – most of us – are on the menu, remember. And Carney is not the green grocer.
We have a big job ahead of us. If we are to defend ourselves against threats of the global superpowers we need to do a much better job of talking about what makes us different. If our sovereignty matters, we need to say a lot more about why. And if someone whatever Carney is proposing “wins,” then what are building with the peace that follows?
After a long career in politics culminating in five years as Canada’s ambassador to the UN, Bob Rae has some opinions on Canada’s place in the world and our ability to meet collective crises together. CanadaLand interviewed him today.
The Economist today is also speculating on what’s going on and how NATO and Europe might face the current crisis. They spend a few minutes trying to figure out what’s motivating the US interest in Greenland and I couldn’t help thinking that, in an effort to expand the size of the US on a map, someone is obsessed with the Mercator projection which makes far northern islands look bigger than entire continents.
My neighbour Don Shafer’s substack is a really good extended exploration of dialogue and democratic participation and today he names an important aspect of the apathy and overwhelm that citizens are feeling.
What many of us experience as chaos is better understood as administration.
Robert Arnold writes that power hasn’t advanced only through spectacle, but through paperwork, procedure, and pace. Executive authority expands while legislatures stall. Oversight is performed rather than enforced. Institutions remain visible, but unreachable. The rituals of democracy continue even as their capacity to interrupt harm thins.
That produces a uniquely destabilizing effect. When the forms remain intact, but outcomes fail, it becomes harder to know where responsibility lies or where pressure can still be applied. In that environment, outrage becomes ambient. Constant. Untethered. And all of it happens faster than it can be named, faster than oversight, faster than response, faster than writing this Substack.
We teach the Chaordic path, the dance between chaos and order that enables self-organization, as an idea that helps leaders and facilitators understand the boundaries of action between those that enable participation and those that induce apathy. At the opposite ends of control and unbounded chaos, which we call “chamos” lies apathy or, as Dave Pollard has written, cultural acedia.
Don nails this. What we can sometimes experience as complete chaos can actually be control and vice versa. It doesn’t matter because the result is the same. I think authoritarians understand this. It’s quite easy push people to apathy through control or chamos. The challenge, especially collectively, is maintaining the structure and form that enables and channels the natural creativity and unpredictability of life towards the emergence of life-giving contexts. Bootstrapping our collective capacity to do that from a place of widespread disenfranchisement and dehumanization is the work right now. As it always has been.
The other day I wrote a post looking at religion as an emergent container of meaning making that is both difficult to define and important in civic life. I’m writing this as a person who is religious to the extent that I practice within and belong to a 100 year old mainline Christian tradition with a mixed history in civic affairs, the United Church of Canada. It was involved in the establishment of both residential schools and public health care. It has championed and supported global solidarity and peace work and no doubt has left people feeling hurt by actions of its leadership. It was the first church in Canada to ordain gay and lesbian ministers and an early adopter of same-sex marriage. In many ways my life has been shaped by this tradition, even the two decades or when I wasn’t an active practitioner in a congregation.
As I have worked with many churches and faith communities of all kinds, I am acutely aware of the influence that religion can have on civic life. I am acutely aware that that is often “not a good thing” especially in this day and age. In the post I wrote the other day I was trying to explore how religion functions as an emergent product of a set of constraints. My basic idea is that religion itself is difficult to define and therefore difficult to either adopt or throw out in terms of its influence on civic affairs. Those of us that belong to religions have very different conversations about the role of religion in civic life than those who do not. Very few of my friends are religious, but with those that are, critical conversations about the role of religion in society are very different with them than with those who simply reject religion at all or say it should be a private matter.
Today I awoke to a beautiful Christmas present (yes this is the liturgical season of Christmas). My friend AKMA, an Anglican priest, Biblical scholar, and critical thinker, read and reflected on my post and offered some beautiful responses offered with grounded and gentle assertions from the perspective of one who inhabits a religion. He shared some sources which inform his thinking (knowing that I will chase these down for further reading!). Most importantly, he shared from a place of deep lived truth, with his characteristic humility and respect:
” I should own up that I take my faith and the sorts of congruent Christian discourse as true and real in a more than merely notional way. That applies even in a way that excludes other ‘religious’ claims. That’s just part of what I take believing to mean, and I’m keenly aware of the risks and presumption baked into that. At the same time, I know and recognise that other profound, admirable, illuminating people do nothold to what I believe, and some believe things that my faith contradicts. Since I have no specific reason to think I’m cleverer or more pious or more receptive to divine revelation than these among my neighbours, I must hold to my faith with a humility that obliges me to treat people’s divergent faiths with the respect that I’d wish them to show mine. I have more to learn than one lifetime…so I can’t by any means rule out the possibility that my Muslim neighbour has arrived at the true, real way of faith and I am wrong about many particulars.
All of which is to say that where Christian nationalists take their faith as a warrant to oppress others because they can’t imagine that they’re wrong, I take my faith as an obligation to honour others’ faith up to the point where our claims conflict, and there to handle that conflict as gently and respectfully as circumstances permit.”
His whole post is worth multiple reads, because what I think he is saying in response to what I am writing is that he isn’t necessarily interested in my framing and exploration of religion-as-container, but instead in sharing the way in which his participation in his religion guides his participation in civic life. And he does so in such a nuanced and expansive manner that it validates the point I was trying to clumsily make in my original post.
Viz:
The tricky task set before us entails finding a modus vivendi by which we who hold to particular exclusive claims about human flourishing can honour and respect people who take a different view, but who still want to live in a civic community with us, and how we can work together to minimise the damage done by fascist-nihilists who will contentedly imprison, torture, kill anybody who gets in the way of their implementing their will.
This is what I mean by religion as a powerful dialogic container. It is a bounded space of shared identity and meaning-making. Inside it, you see these conversations with contemporaries and with ancestors who have carried a deep questions about how we live together. AKMA’s distillation of such is an example for me about the role that religion plays in both personal and civic life. It feels brave to say it aloud. Thanks AKMA.
A mural at St. Andrews-Wesley United Church in Vancouver showing the ending of the Noah’s Ark story as if it happened on a BC Ferry.
The word “religion” does a a lot of heavy lifting. But actually finding a way to define it in a way that is useful turns out to be surprisingly tricky.
The scholar and minister Wilfred Cantwell Smith, whose book The Meaning and End of Religion (1962) had meticulously detailed the belated emergence of the ‘religion’ concept in Europe, long maintained that talk of ‘religion’ conflated too many things not to cause mischief, and urged that we give up such talk altogether; we should, instead, speak of faith and ‘cumulative tradition’. The anthropologist and historian Daniel Dubuisson, who anathematised ‘religion’ as a 19th-century Western imposition on non-Western worlds, urged that it be replaced with ‘cosmographic formation’. These evasive manoeuvres, in turn, have met with scepticism. As the social theorist Martin Riesebrodt drily observed, neologisms like Dubuisson’s could doubtless be shown to ‘have also been “constructed” through historically specific discourses’ and revealed as ‘instruments in the linguistic battle between classes or cultures.’ Besides, he pointed out, those who would eliminate the term ‘religion’ seldom manage long without it.
So how has ‘religion’, as a concept and category, endured in the absence of a stable definition? To answer that question, it may help to think about how referring expressions do their referring. Some terms keep their grip on the world even as our understanding of what they denote changes radically; others, once central to serious thought, fall away when their supposed referents are deemed illusions. What distinguishes the survivors from the casualties?
The interesting question here is seeing it as a space of meaning making, and therefore as a kind of container. From that perspective we might look at the constraints that give rise to the idea…the attractors, boundaries, connections and exchanges that create the unique identity that defines the emergent phenomenon of a religion.
If ‘religion’ endures, it’s because the word still does work, practical and theoretical. It orders law and policy, directs research, and shapes the inner lives of those who use it. Sociologists can enquire into its relation to charity or suicide; psychologists can study its connection to prejudice or wellbeing. In the United States, legislators and judges must have a sufficient grasp of the category that they can balance the [American] Constitutional dos and don’ts of ‘accommodation’ and ‘non-establishment’. For the religionist, meanwhile, it continues to name a space where meaning is made, defended or denied. Whatever else it may be, ‘religion’ remains a category with too many stakeholders to be fired by fiat. When it comes to what the word means, no one gets to say, and everyone gets a say.
This is such an interesting article, because I think emergent containers are very important in human experience and, as noted above, those we call “religions” play a more important role than others such as, like allegiances to a sports team, professional associations or, in some cases, citizenship. Like all dialogic containers. I think religions are emergent phenomena, which is why “no one gets to say, and everyone gets a say.” They are evolving spaces of meaning-making, and they are dynamic. The kinds of exchange for example, the rituals and liturgies of practice, are always changing. What happens in my little rural church on Bowen Island is very different to what happened in the volcanic tuft caves in Cappadocia, but there is a line of continuity between the two. Complex systems have path dependency, that is, they evolve and develop based on what has come before, which limits the ways in which they will likely change in the future.
Understanding containers of meaning through the constraints that give them rise helps us to understand how they change and why. Religions change, both in the object of their focus and in the ways in which they practice. Simply saying things like “religion is the problem” actually doesn’t bring useful tools to the conversation about the role of religion in civic life. Religions that are deeply exclusionary in practice, and place rigid boundaries about what is right and what is wrong, may nevertheless internally be places of deep community practice. Indeed, public social services, health care and education systems emerged out of religious institutions and in secular societies, the state took over these roles partly as a program of secularization.
I think there is a place for the containers that we call religions in our world. I think they can be places inside of which people polish their goodness and practice the full range of capacities that are needed to build a world of peace. And I think they can also be harmful cults, which do untold damage through violence, abuse, coercion and exclusion. Like all containers. Religion is nothing special, except that it is accorded a special place in our civic life, even in self-described “secular” states.
If the problem is that civic life in a place is dominated by the separations promoted by some religions, the answer may involve looking elsewhere within the container for the kinds of practices that help to build a civil society. A society that is evolving, growing and changing is doing so in complex ways. Those of us that are helping to make change (and helping to stabilize continuity) need to be careful not to take entire containers of human experience and throw them out. That is a form of colonization and erases and negates some of the ways in which human beings draw sustenance.
We can instead talk about what it means to create and build a society based on principles and practices of human dignity and peace and care and seek multiple sources of inspiration and expertise in designing these while at the same time collectively addressing places where people are dehumanized, killed, hated and excluded. Thinking about the ways we make meaning together from a constraints-based perspective helps me to see that the resources for doing so can be everywhere.