In response to my last post, Beth asked an important question regarding what can we do? How can we move forward from here? I have been thinking about this question a lot this week. And while I don’t have a “to do” list as an answer, I do have thoughts on some of the shifts that can take place internally, that can then lead to more creative, transformative actions in the world. Here they are:

Recognize the interdependence of our lives.

As much as the dominant version of American national identity wants to claim that we are “autonomous,” we are not. Our “I” is always constructed within our “we,” and sometimes we cannot see who is in the “we” that upholds our lives. I wonder if this reality of interdependence was in some sense easier to understand when more of us lived more connected to an agrarian society— when the basic goods of our lives were traded with our local neighbors? Now, the products that I eat and use everyday are created by those neighbors whom I can’t see.

I know it’s a small gesture—a really small exchange of grateful energy—but as we eat our food, and if we are the lucky ones who have access to fruits and vegetables, I do think it is important to give thanks for the people whose hands picked our tomatoes and apples. Perhaps those small moments of thanks everyday will add up and create within us increasing desire to recognize our interdependency, which then might help us participate in advocating for human rights.

For instance, if more of us had more consciousness of our interdependence, we might understand that immigrant rights, and more specifically, the rights of immigrants who are migrant workers in this country, is an issue  very close to our daily lives. For the fruits of that neighbor’s labor is as near as it can be—it builds the very cells of our bodies and gives us the nutrients and energy we need for our own day’s work.

So, we need to cultivate daily moments that help us recognize our interconnectivity with our neighbors, even if that neighbor is not geographically proximate. I think that part of the reason such egregious human rights violations take place in this country is because we have a delusion that our “I” is not part of a larger collective “we.”

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So, last week I got to pop into New York for a few days. I met with an amazing NYU professor, Amy Huber, who studied with the incredible Judith Butler. Butler wrote many books which have deeply influenced me, including a text about grief and politics. It’s called Precarious Life: The Power of Mourning and Violence, and it’s about how some of us with lots of resources and privileges make certain lives on this planet ungrievable in our imaginations.

By ungrievable I mean we choose not to see and be transformed by the suffering of others—people positioned on this planet with less access to food, freedom, and safety.

Especially post 9-11, as the U.S. struggles with its fears of security, we all have had this tremendous opportunity to recognize our interdependence and shared vulnerability with everyone else on this miraculous, twirling planet. That recognition of shared humanity could lead to creative and compassionate problem solving.

But, tragically, by and large we choose to compulsively retell our delusional story of “American exceptionalism” and continue to try to rely on our military, our bombings, our “shock and awe” campaigns, in an effort to restore that elusive feeling of safety. But wars will never make us safer. Killing other people’s children, husbands, wives, partners, sisters, brothers…these actions do not make the U.S. safer. Read more »