uncomfortable

“Compassion is generally considered to be a good
thing, but I’ve seen people invoke it in a way that seems to turn their
brains to mush. “I know Bush is doing bad things, but I do bad things too,
and we need to send him love and compassion.” That’s not compassion, that’s
Stockholm syndrome, the psychological phenomenon whereby kidnap victims or
hostages or abused children come to identify with those who hold power over
them, and want to please them.” Starhawk, 2006

Last night I saw the movie “V for Vendetta”, a stunning movie in which characters like Bush are dispatched with an intelligent violent efficiency, part of the means justifying an end which is the uprising of the people and the toppling of a totalitarian regime. It’s a movie I will be thinking about for a long time, with lots to say about revolution, terrorism, the power of symbols, and the difference between ideas and people. Although based on a comic, it’s anything but simple, and found myself enjoying it immensely. I saw it on the heels of reading the strange posting which included the above words from Starhawk on the anniversary of Rachel Corrie’s death. I say strange, because compassion and love for your enemies has always been a hallmark of the teachings of the great spiritual and non-violent revolutionaries, and Starhawk aims to be among their ranks. The heads of Jesus, Martin Luther King, and Ghandi were filled with anything but mush, and my guess is that Rachel Corrie held their stirring words on loving your enemies in her heart, and this in some way, is what she died for. For Starhawk to equate having compassion for one’s enemies as a symptom of “Stockholm syndrome” boggles this witch’s brain, and points to just how hard it is to hold the compassionate viewpoint once you’ve experienced actual violence.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently, triggered by my son and his surprising uprising at his progressive school. After a group of seventh graders put up a poster urging George Bush to eat more pretzels, including some disparaging remarks about Republicans, Casey strode into the director of student’s office. He apparently gave quite an impassioned speech, saying that he’d been taught to be tolerant of other people’s beliefs, and he thought that his school valued embracing diversity, but it seemed to be only a certain kind of diversity, not diversity of belief and thought. He carried on, questioning if it was right to root for another person’s death, even if we felt their policies are wrong or evil, and (this is the line that’s given me so much trouble) saying that if he were a from a Republican family, he wouldn’t feel safe or comfortable at the school. The director was pretty shocked, especially given Casey’s background, but after some discussion and thought, the sign came down.

The discussion of this incident with my friends has provoked a variety of responses. Some feel I should be proud of Casey, that he clearly has integrated and made his own the message of tolerance and love for all beings that he has grown up with, and that he clearly has embraced employing “the questioning attitude”. Others feel he’s unclear of the level of atrocities that have been perpetuated by Bush and his ilk, and that this is indicative of an adolescent rebellion against his leftist family and community, one which puts me in danger of producing a right wing conservative son.

At one gathering, Casey held his own in a rousing discussion, with Jeff, a seasoned fifty-something left-wing political writer, and Hillary, a true “elder” of Reclaiming and co-writer of “Twelve Wild Swans”, holding the two poles. Jeff spoke to the absurdity of making those who’ve behaved like Nazis “safe and comfortable” and Hilary defended Casey’s questioning the rightness of suggesting violence to our enemies. I listened intently, finding myself bouncing back and forth between positions. I was struck by my son’s depth of thought and facility in expressing it, even as I found myself wishing he was speaking out about environmental destruction or the degradation of human rights as opposed to questioning how we spoke about those we find oppressive and even evil. How much easier and comfortable the former discussion would be!

I found “V for Vendetta” exhilarating. When the bad guys get whacked, there’s a rush of primal excitement. “An eye for an eye” is so much more immediately gratifying than “turn the other cheek”, and certainly does better at the box office. One of my favorite signs from the big march before the war broke out just happened to be “Have another pretzel, motherfucker!” Even now, thinking about it makes me laugh, the simple revengeful humanness of it, the lack of sanctimoniousness and holier than thou-ness that sometimes can characterize the left. And yet, as uncomfortable as it makes me, I have to side with my son, and with all of those who invoke compassion. My head is not full of mush, but holds the difficult paradox of deeply understanding and even taking dark pleasure in V’s vendetta, even as I envision and try to embrace another way of being, one in which I do the rigorous practice of following the law of love, of having compassion for all beings, and refusing the very idea of “enemies”. This is not Stockholm syndrome, it is damn hard work. I wish it were easier.