Next week is Passover, which is one of my favorite holidays. Unfortunately, the seder that I usually attend is this weekend, so I will be sulking accordingly. I'm only sort of joking. Passover is great, specifically because of its ritualized eating interwoven with stories. Our Passover (celebrated at a friend's house) is fairly nontraditional, and the stories always include a political element.
Passover celebrates Moses and the freeing of the Jews from Egyptian slavery, and our Passover Haggadah has always been edited and updated to reflect the politics of the times (Example: the Jews were freed from oppression and someday, there will be no more indefinite imprisoning of "detainees" and there will be no more genocide in Darfur and some day, all people will be able to marry those that they chose to spend the rest of their lives with, regardless of gender, and there will be no more oppression of Palestinians in Israel. This last one more traditional Jews would probably not support, I suppose), which was truly my favorite part of the seder. Not only did we celebrate our people's (and how powerful to feel that connection to a people from ages ago!) freedom, but we dedicate time to remember that there are other, parallel struggles that take place daily around the world and that as people lucky enough to have been freed so long ago, we should consider it our duty to aid the oppressed in this struggle.
The specific political examples (I suspect this year's focus will be health care as a human right) might be unique to our Passover, making these ideas concrete for us, but our people do seem to bend towards social justice issues, perhaps because of this tradition of a group retelling the story of how we once were oppressed reminds us in subtle ways that we should be trying to do the same for others. Passover doesn't say, "things were bad, but now they're good;" it says "things were bad for us, now they are better and by next year we will have made things even better for everyone."
Friday, March 26, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Going Veg.
I just finished Jonathan Safran Foer's new book, Eating Animals, which delves into the many layers behind why (and more importantly, how) people eat meat. It was a good book, not too hung up on the gross-out business (a vegetarian's best weapon), but I still came away from the book with a less-than "right" feeling about it. It wasn't guilt- I only eat meat maybe once or twice a week (interestingly enough, environmentalists ask that people reduce the amount of meat they eat by that much- that is, that people cut meat from their diet one or two days a week to reduce the toll raising meat takes on our planet, but I honestly can't imagine eating meat more than the couple of times a week I do- the thought kind of grosses me out). I had read in several reviews that this book does not present the farmers in a positive light, but that wasn't what was bothering me about the book. Honestly, I thought that the farmers came across okay, as people doing their work to live their lives.
And the problem was not with the format, which was lovely: interwoven between interviews and statistics are family stories about eating, because families and stories and eating are intrinsically linked.
No, the problem I had with the book- the point at which I felt it was good, but didn't sit well, was the smugness of vegetarianism. That holier-than-thou attitude, that outrageously poor leadership! If you want to convert someone to your beliefs, to your cause, then the exact wrong way to go about it is to insistently tell people that you are dong the right thing, that you are better than everyone else and therefore they should try to be like you. I know I've spent a lot of time on this blog finding out about the wrong ways to lead, but I think that when you can identify the wrong things- the ways you know will not help you lead- then you can better identify the good ways to lead. For the record, I was a vegetarian (twice, actually), but I always framed the discussion (which would invariably come up at barbecues, where there is never anything for vegetarians besides one sad salad) as a personal choice; that there were things in meat that I don't want to eat, for example, or that I just like vegetables better (true). I would never say that I'm doing it because I care more about animals (thanks, PETA) than anyone else. I probably don't. If you want to convince people to follow you, you have to connect with them around a common idea (we all want to be healthy, for example, and meat, particularly corn-fed meat, is not) and then expand from there. Otherwise people will just feel that you are lashing out at them and respond with clichéd, knee-jerk reactions we've all been hearing for years. It's hard to convince people to do the right thing, especially when it's not as easy or as delicious, but it's a much easier discussion if it is a discussion and not a fight.
(Apologies for the late post; my computer crashed earlier)
And the problem was not with the format, which was lovely: interwoven between interviews and statistics are family stories about eating, because families and stories and eating are intrinsically linked.
No, the problem I had with the book- the point at which I felt it was good, but didn't sit well, was the smugness of vegetarianism. That holier-than-thou attitude, that outrageously poor leadership! If you want to convert someone to your beliefs, to your cause, then the exact wrong way to go about it is to insistently tell people that you are dong the right thing, that you are better than everyone else and therefore they should try to be like you. I know I've spent a lot of time on this blog finding out about the wrong ways to lead, but I think that when you can identify the wrong things- the ways you know will not help you lead- then you can better identify the good ways to lead. For the record, I was a vegetarian (twice, actually), but I always framed the discussion (which would invariably come up at barbecues, where there is never anything for vegetarians besides one sad salad) as a personal choice; that there were things in meat that I don't want to eat, for example, or that I just like vegetables better (true). I would never say that I'm doing it because I care more about animals (thanks, PETA) than anyone else. I probably don't. If you want to convince people to follow you, you have to connect with them around a common idea (we all want to be healthy, for example, and meat, particularly corn-fed meat, is not) and then expand from there. Otherwise people will just feel that you are lashing out at them and respond with clichéd, knee-jerk reactions we've all been hearing for years. It's hard to convince people to do the right thing, especially when it's not as easy or as delicious, but it's a much easier discussion if it is a discussion and not a fight.
(Apologies for the late post; my computer crashed earlier)
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Leading the Revolution
Yesterday I was watching this incredible movie, Chicago 10: Speak Your Peace, which is about the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago, and the protests by liberal groups (specifically, MOBE and the Yippies) because LBJ was not challenged by an anti-war candidate. The movie covers the protests (called riots, but as far as I could see, only due to outrageous behavior by the police) as well as the wholly ridiculous trial of eight men (called the leaders of the riot, tried for conspiracy to incite), including Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Bobby Seale and others.
One of the most striking things about this movie, which weaves together footage of the protests with animated reenactments of the trial, is the repeated use of the word leader. Specifically, members in the establishment (the news media, the judge an prosecutor at the trial) repeatedly called Hoffman and others the "leaders" of various conspiracies to cement the state's case against them. Jerry Rubin outright rejects this term, stating that the people aren't "led" to rebel against things that are unjust, but that the people lead themselves. Likewise, Allen Ginsberg, called a "hippie spiritual leader" by the prosecutor, rejects the term, saying that he's simply "being"and not leading anyone everywhere. Indeed, in footage of the rally (legal) followed by the march to the convention (illegal), Ginsberg says that he is going to march (despite the lack of permit), not as a leader, because he is not asking this of anyone else, but as a person, and if there are or are not other persons with him, then so be it (leading by example, perhaps?).
I find all of this rejection fascinating! First, they clearly rejected the title of leader (probably because of how it does not fit well with the philosophy of the groups), but in that they make speeches (in which Jerry Rubin proclaims, "I am not going to get you to do anything you weren't going to do already!") and literally lead marches and rallies, are they not leaders, then? Is the rejection of the title merely strategy, or do they truly believe that they are not leaders, per se, but something else? If we reject the title leader, does it make us 'better people in charge,' or is it like Caesar rejecting the crown three times- is it merely a put-on to inspire one's followers? So-called populist leaders have a fervent following, perhaps because their leader has rejected that term (Sarah Palin rejecting the Governorship?), so that their followers think, "That person isn't a leader, s/he's a person just like me. I'll do what they say."
Needless to say, the rise of populism and decline of want for a true leader is a much longer and more nuanced discussion (you can read about it in Susan Jacoby's The Age of American Unreason, actually), but I wonder if people can truly reject the title of leader, or if it is inherently an act, a put-on, something that will excite the masses into wanting to follow you.
One of the most striking things about this movie, which weaves together footage of the protests with animated reenactments of the trial, is the repeated use of the word leader. Specifically, members in the establishment (the news media, the judge an prosecutor at the trial) repeatedly called Hoffman and others the "leaders" of various conspiracies to cement the state's case against them. Jerry Rubin outright rejects this term, stating that the people aren't "led" to rebel against things that are unjust, but that the people lead themselves. Likewise, Allen Ginsberg, called a "hippie spiritual leader" by the prosecutor, rejects the term, saying that he's simply "being"and not leading anyone everywhere. Indeed, in footage of the rally (legal) followed by the march to the convention (illegal), Ginsberg says that he is going to march (despite the lack of permit), not as a leader, because he is not asking this of anyone else, but as a person, and if there are or are not other persons with him, then so be it (leading by example, perhaps?).
I find all of this rejection fascinating! First, they clearly rejected the title of leader (probably because of how it does not fit well with the philosophy of the groups), but in that they make speeches (in which Jerry Rubin proclaims, "I am not going to get you to do anything you weren't going to do already!") and literally lead marches and rallies, are they not leaders, then? Is the rejection of the title merely strategy, or do they truly believe that they are not leaders, per se, but something else? If we reject the title leader, does it make us 'better people in charge,' or is it like Caesar rejecting the crown three times- is it merely a put-on to inspire one's followers? So-called populist leaders have a fervent following, perhaps because their leader has rejected that term (Sarah Palin rejecting the Governorship?), so that their followers think, "That person isn't a leader, s/he's a person just like me. I'll do what they say."
Needless to say, the rise of populism and decline of want for a true leader is a much longer and more nuanced discussion (you can read about it in Susan Jacoby's The Age of American Unreason, actually), but I wonder if people can truly reject the title of leader, or if it is inherently an act, a put-on, something that will excite the masses into wanting to follow you.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Religion, Politics and Common Ground
In light of our discussion of politics and religion in class, this article is quite timely. One of my favorite things is when two (oppositely) extreme groups meet up again at the other side, so to speak. In this case, concerning charities. Often liberals are unwilling to work with religious charities, when, if they did, they could potentially be doing the most good. I'm currently reading this book, entitled Good Book, which is about all of the interesting stories, etc found in the Bible. Some of the most striking things are the very different ideas that people have about morality as it was practiced in Biblical times and as it is practiced today. In another post, perhaps, I will have to delve deeper into the fascinating leaders in the Bible and the choices they made (example: Moses and God believe in and practice the separation of church and state, because it will lead to a more stable religion and government?!), but for now, I have to say that I'm definitely expanding my comfort zone as well as my knowledge base.
Back to the New York Times article, and one of the most fascinating paragraphs in the piece:
Back to the New York Times article, and one of the most fascinating paragraphs in the piece:
"In one striking passage, Mr. Stearns quotes the prophet Ezekiel as saying that the great sin of the people of Sodom wasn’t so much that they were promiscuous or gay as that they were “arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.” (Ezekiel 16:49.)
Hmm. Imagine if sodomy laws could be used to punish the stingy, unconcerned rich!"
Indeed! That's something we might all be able to get behind.
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