Mobsters, paramilitaries, children’s books and the refusal to be someone’s friend
In January 2010 the infamous New York mobster John “Junior” Gotti claimed to have finished a children’s book while in prison entitled Children of Shaolin Forest. This contrast between his public acts and the writing of a children’s book can strike us peculiar. Here we are confronted with the image of someone accused of murder, conspiracy to murder and armed robbery sitting in a cell writing a touching and sentimental story for children. This is not dissimilar to a situation that was well noted back in my homeland of Northern Ireland. There it was common knowledge that many of the Loyalist paramilitary leaders had a great sense of humour. In contrast to their more serious and sombre counterparts the Loyalist groups where known to make biting jokes at their own expense and, over a drink, exchange an unending litany of funny, self-depreciating anecdotes. This was also true of many of the Protestant fundamentalist leaders and was something that I got to witness directly a couple of times.
A question that these observations raise concerns the profound limitation of the idea that listening to another person’s story will turn a stranger, or even enemy, into a friend. In light of the above there seems to be a problem with this statement, not in terms of its actual claim but rather in its desirability.
For what if this statement is largely correct? What if, with the exception of people with serious personality disorders, individuals like Gotti are likable once you have had a chance to really chat with them? What if, under the right circumstances, I really could enjoy the company of most people and even come to consider them a friend? Is it possible that, at a subjective level, others are really not that dissimilar to me? They too love children, care for their friends, give quietly to charity, buy drinks on a night out, tell jokes, share their sufferings etc. etc.
If this is the case then we must ask whether we should put ourselves in a place where we can become friends with certain people. People who actively participate in and affirm systems that lead to the oppression or outright destruction of others. Or perhaps, while being their friend at a subjective level, whether we must maintain enough distance to be able to attack them viciously in public.
Take, for instance, the phenomenon of those slave owners who were known to be kind to their slaves (calling them by their real name, showing generosity etc.). The radical move is not to try to expose how this subjective attitude is inauthentic, but rather how it acts as a veil that covers over the objective violence at work in the material nature of the relationship itself. In many respects the first act of defiance involves the dangerous act of the slave refusing the friendship and acting like the oppressed person they are (i.e. not allowing the true violence to be hidden in subjective relations). In this way the slave-owner is unable to hide behind a subjective friendship but is confronted by his or her fundamental violence.
One of the things we witness with the rise of social networking media is the emphasis on the subjective (not to mention the TV programmes and films that concentrate on the subjective story of criminals, e.g. The Sopranos). Now we can know public figures at an intimate level through their twitter updates and facebook profiles. We can see that they shop in the same places we do, listen to the same bands, also have embarrassing photographs of themselves and get into funny predicaments when they have had too much to drink. This focus upon the subjective is often celebrated as a step towards a type of global community of acceptance: something that fundamentalists have stood firmly against.
Within Christian fundamentalist circles there is a fear of a one-world government bringing worldwide peace and harmony. Initially this fundamentalist fear can seem absurd, for why would they stand against global peace. However, nestled within their irrational diatribe is an obscured insight. For what if such a unity (in which we encounter each other as all part of the same family) can actually obfuscate the need to stand against injustice and speak up for those who have no voice? In short, what if the concentration on bringing about subjective peace (a deep ecumenism) can actually stand in the way of opposing violent structures?
To concentrate on subjective peace (a more liberal stand) is thus perhaps only a little better than standing against it (a more conservative temptation). And that instead we need to reclaim the Pauline insight that our battle is not against flesh and blood but rather principalities and powers. In short, that our interest in subjective relations (by which I include myself and the movement I am a part of) should not get in the way of the fact that we need to fight tooth and nail against unjust systems. There is a complex relationship between flesh and blood and principalities and powers that needs to be unpacked here. For the later exists only as they are expressed in the former, yet cannot be reduced to them. This is not dissimilar to the relationship between the ‘sinner’ and ‘sin’ obfuscated in the evangelical phrase ‘love the sinner hate the sin’. I may take this up at a later time.
So, in conclusion, what if we must be wary of the popular claim that church should provide a space where we listen to each others stories and rather attempt to foster a place in which we come face to face with the role we play in society as material beings (i.e. whether we are instruments of love or hate in the world)? Admittedly the two spaces can have a lot of similarities and so we need to do some work drawing out the subtle differences.
These are some issues that I explore in more depth in my upcoming book.
June 5th, 2010 at 6:04 pm
This touches on something I’ve been thinking of recently. You seem to be suggesting that discord has some positive role to play in the overall objective of society? Indeed, ecumenical and reconciliatory efforts are only meaningful insofar as we have discord. So what of those who perpetuate discord, even violence? The irony of the so-called peace lovers, it seems, is that without exception they are all “against” discord. In sum, social revolutions are over-rated.
June 5th, 2010 at 10:13 pm
In HNTSoG you wrote, “…we must not enter into any situation in a neutral and objective manner, even the reading of scripture, but always with eyes of love.”
While I agree with your concern for clarity of purpose, for conviction and passion for justice, I think the “eyes of love” of which you wrote must form the basis of our calling. In each of the circumstances you list (and so many more), we must certainly fight against the “powers and principalities” with everything at our disposal. But primarily at our disposal, I believe, is a unique orientation – the “prejudice of love.”
June 6th, 2010 at 12:54 am
have u been reading bonhoeffer?
June 6th, 2010 at 2:32 am
Three thoughts
1) It reminds of a Michael Franti lyric where he sings, “I don’t give a fuck who they screwing in private, I want to know who they screwing in public”
2) I’m also reminded of Eric Santner’s work On the Psychotheology of Everyday Life. His main thesis is that to truly open ourselves to alterity we need not welcome the Other as Other (since, in reality, this often reduces to finding common ground with the Other that we share which ultimately reduces the Other to same, i.e. we try and domesticate the Other’s Otherness), instead we most open ourselves up to the Other’s internal alienness. The fact that the Other is a profound mystery unto herself. Hence, we can only truly ever welcome difference once we recognize that the Other is unaware of dimensions of the self. That is to say we come to terms with the fact that Other is a neighbor with an unconscious.
June 6th, 2010 at 2:53 am
The question in this blog appears to be: “What if, with the exception of people with serious personality disorders, individuals like Gotti are likable once you have had a chance to really chat with them?”
This becomes problematic, when (and if) it is supposed that the question also destabilizes the utopic vision of peaceful unity. Or, as stated above “what if such a unity…can actually obfuscate the need to stand against injustice…?”
It’s a moot point really. Unity is a pipe dream (no pun intended). Even if I happened to like Gotti’s book, or enjoy Putin’s sense of humor, even if the CFO of BP was a really nice guy–none of that changes the fact that we live on a planet with finite resources, and approach those resources from irreconcilable points of view.
This irreconciliation, inherent to our subjectivity, remains as a function of our ontology. Simply by suggesting that it appears as violence fails to undermine its value. Violence (I would qualify this term further if I thought it would a qualification would clarify its use), far from being inevitable, or even necessary, when it comes to the dynamics of human exchange, should be considered desirable.
June 6th, 2010 at 8:38 am
Peter,
This is a very good thought and I wonder where it leads. It resonates with me, especially the part of not being someone’s friend, to show the violence of their actions (i.e. the slave not being friends with his master).
I was part of a charismatic college ministry that focused very much on spiritual authority, where, basically one’s well being was predicated upon submitting to the authority God has placed in one’s life, good or bad.
The leader of this group is someone I’ve considered a friend and even in light of violence towards me and my wife (telling me he couldn’t have a relationship with me, preferred that me and my wife not live in the same city if we were not part of his ministry) I continued to think we were friends and pursued him as such.
A main emphasis of that ministry is “Authentic Community” and I wonder if the focus on community actually became an instrument that compelled me to suffer violence all under the guise of friendship, instead of putting up a boundary that was appropriate because of the spiritual abuse this authority was causing.
Anyways, I will be meditating on this.
Thank you,
Jamie
June 6th, 2010 at 7:36 pm
On the slave master subject, I think you’d really be interested in the Brer Rabbit stories of Joel Chandler Harris. No one reads them anymore because of the racist frame of happy “Uncle” telling them. But when you compare the seemingly happy Uncle Remus with the violent amoral folktales that spring from his mouth you get a real interesting dynamic.
June 7th, 2010 at 7:29 am
Another aspect of the slave/master scenario would be, can I, an abolitionist, be friends with a slave owner? Your question directly confronted the relationship between the oppressed and the oppressor. Prior to that, your examples of Gotti and of the Loyalist paramilitary leaders were more focused on you being friends with them. But to my knowledge, neither Gotti nor these leaders oppressed you. Your question, as I understood it, was: will “listening to another person’s story…turn a stranger, or even enemy, into a friend”?
So in regard to the slave owner/abolitionist friendship, I would reply in the affirmative. Not because I approve of my friend’s choice to oppress a fellow human being and to treat him like an animal or a piece of farming equipment, but because most likely, his circle of friends will only contain those who agree with him and his destructive lifestyle. And he needs someone who will befriend him and address the things in his life that are wrong.
I hope someone would be a friend enough to me to confront me when my actions belie my professed faith.
June 8th, 2010 at 6:50 pm
Not been here for a while, but this caught my eye, since it raises a problem I’m concerned with.
I don’t know if you’ve read anything by Martha Nussbaum, but she has some interesting things to say about empathy and narrative, which are relevant to this post – a few chapters in ‘The fragility of goodness’ and an essay called ‘Equity and mercy’. Basically, she’s asking the question of whether we become better judges through increased empathy (which is linked to understanding motives, thoughts, feelings, etc, not simply actions), or whether discerning judgement is only possible with an inflexible concern for what actually happens externally, the factual, etc.
I think that this problem (empathy and compassion versus justice and resolve) is the kind of thing that Simone Weil had in mind when she talked about ‘contradictory virtues’. That is, there is real ethical conflict between these imperatives, and real conflict between different dispositions and virtue – the qualities necessary to understand a person, be genuinely open to them, etc, do not easily develop alongside the qualities necessary to stand against abuses of power, point out hypocrisy, etc. Or: “God alone is good”.
June 9th, 2010 at 4:32 pm
Hi Peter:
I have a question which is perhaps related to this post… I will try to phrase this as succinctly and baggage-free as possible, which may not be possible at all.
I am a same-sex attracted man who attends an Anglican church. Only a handful of people know my story. However, my sense is that if the people at my church overall did know my story, they would not reject me directly — but they would not accept me unconditionally either. There would be a gap, a distance, an unspoken rejection.
I believe God loves us unconditionally, and that we are to love others in the same way. In light of my church, then, where I feel the weightiness of being an outsider, would it be better to leave (to not befriend them)? I’m not asking you to advise me as to a decision, but am wondering whether you or other readers could shed light on the kinds of things to consider in such a situation.
btw, I am in agreement with my church’s perspectives on sexuality — I mention this to be clear that the issue is not one of difference in theological beliefs (as I can see that these could in other situations certainly result in violence against people)
Thanks!
Rob
June 14th, 2010 at 11:29 pm
i remember saying to you that i never met a murderer i didn’t like…
It’s not quite true anymore – i have met a few i don’t like, but whether i do or don’t no longer matters. what I find when i’m forced to be in a relationship with people who have done inhumane things, is that they become much, much more than the act which has put them into prison. I recognise ‘the other’s’ humanity, and the complexity involved in their story and relationship with the world. And when i’m forced to face their complexity, i discover my own. So yes, the crime / sin they have committed, and the justice / restoration required, is always in my mind, but justice becomes far more systemic rather than individual. When you mention principalities and powers i always think of the evil / demonic systems in the world – but I’ve discovered that the principalities and powers of justice and love have the same complexity when they interact with flesh and blood.