One hundred years ago, July 1, 1916, British, French and German forces engaged at the Somme River in France. The battle last until November. Total casualties were over 600,000 Allied, and nearly 500,000 German. Over a million, mostly young men, were killed or terribly disfigured. It is difficult to see anything good that was achieved in the mass slaughter of a generation. People didn't matter. Such stupidity and callous disregard for human life has been repeated innumerable times, often wrapped up in a narrative of national, racial, or religious pride to give it an aura of legitimacy.
But slowly—painfully so—sages and wise folk have been telling us that people matter, that we share a common humanity, that all count equally and that every person deserves respect.
In the ancient world, Confucius' humaneness (ren), the Buddha's loving-kindness (metta), the Indian mystics' nonviolence (ahimsa), and Jesus' love your neighbor and your enemies (agape), all pointed in the direction that all people matter. In the modern world, Immanuel Kant gave us the categorial imperative, "always treat a person, in yourself or another, not merely as a means to an end, but also as an end in themselves." People matter. John Stuart Mill urged us to allow the greatest amount of liberty, but never to cause harm to another. After World War Two, the nations of the world, appalled by the disregard to the sanctity of the person, gave to the the world the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. People matter. We share a common humanity.
Last weekend, I was on retreat with friends in our spiritual community. Much love was present as we affirmed one another in trying to do good in the world. We had the privilege of blessing the forthcoming marriage of two fine young men. As we were packing up the retreat house, we heard the first reports of the slaughter in an LGBTQ club in Orlando. The contrast and emotional dissonance could not have been greater. The dissonance was compounded a few days later by the murder of British MP Jo Cox. Her murder resulted from misguided nationalism and hatred.
It has been a bad week for our common humanity.
In Europe, in the USA, in the Middle East, in Africa and Asia, for the last several years nationalism, coupled with xenophobia—fear of the outsider—have been growing apace. This week British voters will decide whether to remain in the European Union or to leave, with unknown consequences. Much of the rhetoric has been about keeping people out, for fear of losing jobs, homes, or a way of life. Fear opens the door to terrible consequences. Fear allows us to scapegoat the Other, place blame, dehumanize. The same rhetoric has been ample in the USA. Muslims, gays, Mexicans, all have become the object of fear-based hate. Populist politicians the world over are giving voice, and hence permission, to the masses to air their prejudices and hatreds in a way not seen since the 1930s.
The hard won realization that what we share in common is far greater than what divides us seems a fragile plant, too readily and wantonly being uprooted by hate speech. I worry about where this will lead us.
That which keeps me from despair is to reflect on the golden thread of history, woven amid the cloth of hatreds and divisions—humaneness, loving-kindness, love, nonviolence, respect, and human rights.
Though fear often leads to hatred of the Other, the sages have taught us that love is the antidote to fear, that love overcomes hate.
It's about our common humanity, really ...
+Ab. Andy