Читать книгу The Neutrality Trap - Bernard S. Mayer - Страница 19

Writing a book of this nature requires an ongoing reflective process. Both of us have carried this on individually but also together as we have sought to consolidate our thinking about how social conflict can unfold in a powerful and meaningful way. We have drawn on all that we have learned from our own practice as students and practitioners of conflict engagement and from our history as activists. We will end some chapters with a brief dialogue between us about how our thinking has evolved and what this has meant for our work on conflict and social change.

Bernie: Jackie, as we prepared different drafts of this chapter, each of us discussed the tension between being realistic about the difficulty of achieving profound social change while remaining optimistic about the profound power of collective action to change society. I have often said that optimism is a moral obligation, but optimism that is not grounded in a realistic view of the challenges we face is neither authentic nor useful. Integrating optimism and realism is an ongoing personal and professional challenge. What I find helps, in fact is required, is to embrace uncertainty. We don't know for sure what the future holds; we know we face real challenges, and to be convinced all will be well makes no sense—but neither does being sure that all is lost and we are doomed. I hold onto both uncertainty and a lifetime of experience in seeing people, groups, and societies change in response to social action. What is your take on the potential to disrupt, dismantle, rebuild, and sustain healthier and more just social structures?

Jackie: Bernie, I have never given up hope that we can create systems and institutional structures in which we can share and celebrate our common humanity. When I look back at what moves me and sustains my hope, it always comes down to love—the love that allows me to be present for others, see the unseen, and disrupt spaces in which injustice has been normalized. During my litigation years in Puerto Rico, a significant part of my practice was representing (in non‐criminal cases) clients who were involuntarily or voluntarily confined in custodial, correctional, healthcare, or penal institutions. I made many visits to these institutions to meet with my clients. I never imagined I could see and experience so much love in a system that was ingrained with so much violence and abuse.

One rainy morning, as I was driving to the parking area of a penal institution, I saw a woman trudging up the hill clutching a stuffed paper bag. (Lawyers could drive up the hill, other visitors had to walk about a quarter of a mile.) She was probably in her late 50s, had no umbrella, and was wearing a worn‐out dress. It looked like the real weight she was carrying was the one on her shoulders. I remember feeling sadness and indignation while thinking—she is most likely someone's mother or grandmother. Her exhaustion and pain were evident, but so was her love. She, unknowingly, made me see the injustice of institutional procedures that hindered the ability of prisoners to be visited by their loved ones. It was also a reminder of our interconnectedness; no matter how much unjust structures try to “place people out of sight,” we are all still connected. Seeing with love is what allows me to feel the indignation that moves me toward confronting unjust systems and building more just social structures.

Bernie, doing this work is difficult, emotionally draining, and many times is unappreciated. What moves you to persevere?

Bernie: For me too, the love, caring, and connectedness that are at the heart of social movements are important sources of hope and energy. But I also feel that sometimes anger at what I see happening is an important motivator as well. We are told in so many ways that profound change is hopeless—that racism has always been with us and always will be, that inequality is inevitable, that climate change can't be avoided so we should just adapt (or deny), and that our actions of resistance are only going to be met by powerful pushback. It sometimes seems safer to be pessimistic and cynical than hopeful. That really makes me angry. I refuse to give in to hopelessness. But this is not just an emotional reaction. I really do believe that progress will be made.

We are in the midst of the COVID‐19 pandemic that has brought a sense of gloom and pessimism to all of us. The election that we have just been through, the concerted and frightening efforts that have been taken to call into question the results that ousted a would‐be dictator, and the incredible numbers of voters who supported him despite his overt racism, authoritarianism, misogynism, and incompetence are all reasons to have doubts about our future.

But many more people rejected than supported Trump. We voted him out. Democracy somehow survived. We are going to find our way through COVID‐19, although not without having paid an awful price, and the responses to voter suppression, to the killing of people of color, and to the threats to our climate have laid the ground for what I hope will be a sustained movement for change.

I love your story about the woman who had to trudge up the hill. It feels like a metaphor for our time. We all are trudging, some with more privilege and power than others. Our obligation is to come together to help everyone get up that hill.

How has COVID‐19, the election, and its aftermath affected you?

Jackie: I like that you raise anger as a catalyst for change and a motivator to organize. Many times, anger is a path to restoring social justice. I am always disappointed (and angered) when people do not get angry or are indifferent when confronted with injustices. My grandmother used to say that when you lose your capacity to become indignant, you might as well be dead. I believe anger is one of those emotions that we shut down too quickly. As conflict practitioners and activists, an effective way to escalate conflict is by channeling anger toward indignation, a truly powerful emotion.

The elections and COVID‐19 have taken me to places of fear, anxiety, anger, rage, frustration, solidarity, hope, joy, compassion, and reflection. At the intersection of COVID‐19 and the US election we have witnessed how deeply racism, both individual and systemic, is embedded in our society. Hispanics, people of color, and Indigenous populations are dying at a higher rate than other groups. COVID‐19 has debunked the myth that the United States has the best healthcare in the world by evidencing how fragile our health system is. It is distressing that I live in a wealthy nation where people have to set up GoFundMe accounts to raise money to cover their healthcare costs. It has been tragic to see the politicization of sound public health guidelines such as wearing masks or getting vaccinated.

The historical period in which we live has shown the fragility and, at times, hollowness of the US democracy. Can we say we live in a democracy when so many people are excluded from participating in the decision‐making process of policies that directly affect them? Can we say that the United States is a democracy when it does not advance political self‐determination processes in all the colonies it possesses? It feels like the empire is crumbling and we are adrift in the turbulence that its dissolution is creating. Many of these systems cannot be fixed because they are not broken. They are working as they were intended to operate by privileging certain groups at the expense of others. And this is where my emotions shift toward hope and reflecting on how much work we need to do, together, if we want to advance democracy and disrupt oppressive systems.

How has it been for you to witness the amplification of polarization in the US elections as a dual US and Canadian citizen, residing in Canada?

Bernie: This period has definitely tested my sense of who I am. My Canadian self is very happy to be spending this time isolating in Canada and feeling insulated not only from the COVID‐19 chaos in the United States (we have our struggles with it here too) but also from the polarization and seeming hopelessness of rallying the US people to face our most pressing problems. But my US self cares deeply about what is happening across the border. I believe it is not really polarization that is our most daunting political problem but the lack of a unifying vision about how we can deal with our seemingly insurmountable challenges. This requires building an effective movement for change with a clear vision for the future. I think such a movement will do more to create constructive conversations and break through polarization than anything else we can do.

What about you? How does your Puerto Rican self make sense of what is happening in the United States?

Jackie: One of the sad advantages of being from a colony is that we have seen and experienced firsthand the many ways that oppression manifests itself. Therefore, my Puerto Rican self is not surprised by what is happening in the United States. However it does give me hope that more and more people in the United States may be willing to start engaging in conversations that they would not have imagined having five years ago. In my opinion, racism is not the root cause of what is currently happening in the United States; rather it is the US imperialist mindset that has fueled racism and White supremacy. As a Puerto Rican, I am hopeful that as conversations about dismantling racism continue to take place, more people in the United States will start grappling with the harsh reality that they are an empire and as such, they continue to own colonies and deprive people of democracy. Maybe the conversations in the United States can advance a self‐determination process for Puerto Rico, all the other US colonies, and for Indigenous nations.