Tethered

One of the things that is difficult to get used to is being tied to a fixed location. I have carers in the morning and night and mostly this provides a routine that works well. I get up at seven each morning, taken to the bathroom and then showered and dressed, and then I go about my day before being put to bed at 8 PM. There is definitely something healthy in a routine of this type. Your body and mind appreciates the rhythm and the consistency, and generally I sleep well and cope with the day.

The real challenge is the fact that this routine keeps me tethered. It feels a little bit like being strapped to an elastic band. I can move around and have a certain amount of freedom but I can only go so far before the elastic drags me back home. I am a 40-year-old living under the constraints of a 14-year-old boy whose mother is keeping him under tight reins.

While I cannot cut the elastic band that binds me, I can untie it if I am organised. I can defer or cancel evening care “please mum, can I stay up late tonight?”. The morning is more problematic but I can arrange for carers in a different location. And if you’re wondering why Elly can’t manage me on her own, you just haven’t thought about it enough. There are just some things a spouse should not be asked to do! Elly is amazing and cares for me throughout the day, but I’m not sure our relationship would survive my morning care.

I intend to travel and stay with my family at Christmas and I think over time I will end up working out how to roam far and wide. It is early days and I am inspired by the exploits of those much further along the journey than me. Check out this guy, Rob Cook, who travelled 730 km in his wheelchair through the Australian desert before arriving in Alice Springs (see here). Puts my little adventures into perspective and reminds me of what is possible.

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Happiness and joy

I wrote an earlier post on the relationship between happiness and virtue and at the risk of repeating myself I am going to have another go. In both Greek and Christian tradition there is also a distinction made between happiness and joy. As I mentioned in the earlier post, happiness is not understood to be an event or an emotion but relates to a life well lived – to the flourishing of the whole of a life.

One way to think about this is to go through a little thought experiment (I read about this somewhere but cannot remember the source – my apologies). Imagine yourself walking past a drug addict in the street who has recently had a shot of heroin. He has a smile on his face and is clearly “happy”, in the euphoric sense to which most of us think about that term. Yet with good reason, we are able to judge that this person is not living a happy life. They are not flourishing and unless things change are not likely to have a life of which it can be said, “there goes a happy man.”

Joy is also different to euphoria. They are both emotional and they are both episodic – they come and go with the circumstances of life. Joy, however, is understood as the celebration of good and beautiful experiences of life while euphoria is simply an emotion that may go with joy but that may also be associated with the injection of heroin. We may also experience euphoria in response to evil, but this is not the experience of joy but, rather, an expression of our brokenness – of the evil that is within us. Some people “enjoy” torturing animals, but this seemingly pleasant emotion is something other than joy – at least as that term has been traditionally understood.

So, in comparison to happiness, joy is much more obviously connected to events and the emotions associated with those events. We contrast joy with grief. We can attend a funeral and say of a widow, “she lived a happy life with her husband”, and we can recognise that her grief does not destroy that happiness, even if it colours it. Joys and griefs are the experience of every life. The person who flourishes differs from the person who does not, largely in the meaning that they are able to make of their life through their experiences of joy and grief. This meaning enables them to transcend their grief. This leaves writers like Thomas Aquinas to assert that, ultimately, happiness does not relate to the circumstances of life but, rather, to the manner in which we deal respond to those circumstances.

If I’m reading him correctly, St Paul takes all of this a little further. He talks about joy as a fruit of the spirit. Now it may be that he is using the term joy as others are using happiness, as something that supersedes our circumstances. But maybe he is also suggesting that we can know something of the emotion of joy even in the midst of grief by the experience of the spirit? (Help me out here Bible scholars!)

Now, I would like to believe St Paul and Aquinas are right – I know that I should believe that they are! But, as I said previously, I do wonder whether all of this is wishful thinking. In reality there seems to be a fair bit of luck connected to happiness, even if this is understood in terms of the story of a flourishing life. It seems to me that while the person with adequate money and good health may or may not be happy, they have a better chance of it than does the person without either. Perhaps, then, all we can do is hope that happiness supersedes circumstances. And for that, I guess, I can pray with St Paul for the gift of the spirit – the deposit of the future – the gift that promises that flourishing is possible.

Anyway, I think I’m going to do one more post on happiness (if I’m boring you just don’t read it!). It will be a critique of Christian tradition, whose wowserism has undermined much of the insight in their understanding of happiness. But that for another time.

War, peace and protests

A former student of mine, Andrew Paine, has been blogging about his recent experiences protesting against the Australian military in North Queensland:

Andrew has become what might be labelled a radical disciple of Jesus. Describing his faith he notes “This is why despite everything I’m still proud to call myself a Christian. Because the incarnation of Jesus, and his message of a kingdom where power and wealth are rejected for love and service; where the weak and broken are lifted up; is still completely radical and counter-cultural. In a world so broken and so unjust; and I include in this the trouble I have in my own life trying to live out this kingdom; the message of Jesus gives me hope.” From what I can gather in following his Facebook profile he has taken to squatting in St Michael’s College at Sydney Uni – a vacant building and by the Catholic Church – in protest against a lack of affordable housing, the high rate of homelessness and unjust “capitalist” systems of property ownership (see news story here). He recalls his recent experience of activism against war, “It was a pretty busy couple of weeks, full of demonstrations, blockading roads (getting arrested), trespassing on US military property (getting arrested again), court cases (my own and my friends), peace concerts, vigils and marches, talking to locals about war, trying (and occasionally succeeding) to talk to soldiers about war, doing media duties, facing the wrath of people with opposing viewpoints both”.

Andrew (“Mudgee” as I used to know him) is a great guy and in many ways his lifestyle presents a challenge to the unthinking passive faith of too many of us Christians. But while I don’t want to be one of those spewing “wrath” against his heartfelt convictions, I do not think I can endorse his current approach. I will leave aside his analysis of capitalism for the present (an economics degree biases me in any event), and concern myself with his active pacifism. My difficulty is twofold.

First, he seems to presume that the military is simply about unfettered violence – “those guns are for killing people and nothing else.” This is extremely simplistic. There is such a thing as a just war – the wielding of the sword for Justice – and to deny this (those guns are just for killing) is to allow evil regimes their victories. It is Thomas Aquinas who first sets out the principles of just war, grounding them in principles of virtue ethics. At the least a just war requires legitimate authority, a just cause, a right intention, proportionality, a reasonable hope of success and it must be a last resort. These are complex principles that require explanation beyond what is possible in this brief blog. It is true, however, that a strong case can be made that some of the current wars Australia is engaged in do not meet these just war principles: is there legitimate authority in Iraq when the UN did not endorse the invasion (but is the UN, with all its foibles, a place of meaningful authority)? Is the ’cause’ and ‘intention’ for going to war the protection of Western oil interests (or is it justice for the Kurds who had experienced the genocide under Saddam Hussein or the liberation for those oppressed by the Taliban in Afghanistan)? Is a military response proportional when our weapons so greatly outweigh the opposition’s (or does this military superiority facilitate proportionality)? Was there a reasonable hope of success when war seems to be interminable (or did the military might of the West imply the likelihood of success)? Was there other ways of confronting injustice (or were oppressive regimes likely to resist calls to change other than those at the end of the sword)? And beyond all of these questions, having gone to war (since we cannot go back in time), it is not as simple as saying “take our troops home.” To leave now might well create a power vacuum that would be very unlikely to bring the peace that we all hope for. All of this to note that the ethics of war are complex, and it is a complexity that the sort of direct action undertaken by Andrew does not and cannot address.

Okay, so we disagree on the theory of war – pacifism versus the possibility of a just war. In fact, this disagreement might not be as massive as one might assume, since I would like to be a pacifist (if I could) and generally I am not an advocate of American military aggression, nor of Australian support therein. But my second and more serious difficulty with Andrew’s action is the discourtesy it displays to our service people and their families. To join the army and fight for one’s country involves a certain fortitude or courage, apparent when a soldier risks harm to themselves, even death, for the sake of the defence of their community and for what they believe to be a just cause. Fortitude is one of the four cardinal virtues (the principal virtues upon which other virtues depend). A courageous person does not seek danger for dangers sake but nor do they remain passive in the face of injustice and the threat of death. Instead, they stand firm, rising above fear, for the sake of others. So while Andrew has faced the wrath of those with opposing views (as well as a police force and a court case) the people he pickets face death. He was especially concerned about the family opening day for a three-week event of military training. He was shattered by “the spectacle of war being promoted as a fun family activity, with camouflage face paint and kids sitting in the driver’s seat of a tank”. What this misses is the fact that this event enables families to appreciate something of the experience of their loved one – yes, even to celebrate their achievements: the virtue of their courage in travelling away from their families and friends at the command of their parliament.

Whether any particular battle is “just” is beside the point. These people do not deserve protests and pickets, and so it is not surprising that Andrew and his “comrades” (his term) were subject to abuse. If there are concerns about the wars currently being waged, these are better directed at our parliamentarians. As I write this post Micah challenge is gathering in Canberra for the Voices for Justice 2011 gathering (see here). This involves “hundreds of passionate advocates in Canberra for four days of action, to call for MORE and BETTER aid – Using their voice to ensure environmental sustainability for the poor and to help save the lives of thousands of women and children in the world’s poorest communities.” It is a legal protest properly aimed, targeting our politicians who decide where and how to spend our government’s budget. And precisely because it is legal and properly organised and, most importantly of all, civilly conducted, it is more effective – or at least more likely to be effective then trouble making at military family days and training exercises.

Andrew, let me say again that I applaud your passion and conviction. I am challenged about my own passivity. But perhaps in reflecting on your own experiences you might also have something to learn from the more deliberate wisdom of groups like voices for Justice. In any event, as you might remember me saying to end my class, “go in peace.”