When a Word Becomes Useless

For me, language is a spiritual thing. There is something grand about how we bestow meaning to certain sounds and symbols, to the point that they seem to take on a life of their own. And when a word is misused or abused to the point of losing its meaning, that seems to me practically sacrilegious.

To that end, I've decided to abandon the use of a particular verb and its derivative forms. What makes it unusual is how common they are to English speakers. Yet I fear they've become too common, dare I say "dead common." The verb in question is can, or perhaps more specifically, its negating counterpart cannot and the contraction can't.

Some of you may have grown up experiencing an exchange such as this:

"Mom, can I go out and play?"

"Well, you may go out and play … "

Both my parents did something like that to convey that "can" and "could" referred to ability, while "may" and "might" referred to permission. Anyone is able to have a cookie, but we're not always allowed to.

Unfortunately, not only has this distinction been lost on many, it has grown worse. "Can" and "cannot" have also been conflated with "want to" and "don’t want to". I've heard people who were perfectly capable of sending an email, or saying a few words to the right person, and with no impediment in terms of supervisory permission, still insist that they "can't" do so. The only reasons I'm able to see for their "can't" are that they are not willing to do so, due to being either unmotivated, uncomfortable, or some combination thereof.

It is at once confusing, exasperating and infuriating, especially for someone like me who takes language – and clarity in language use – as seriously as I do. Imagine the sentence: "We can't issue such a clarifying memo." Now imagine it's possible meanings to include:

• We're not able to do that.
• We need explicit permission before we can do that.
• We have been explicitly prohibited from doing that.
• We're not in the mood to do that.
• We have bad feelings about doing that.

That leaves those on the receiving end of that "can't” statement to deduce which meaning it is, based on contextual facts:

• The person or group saying "can't" has computers and printers and email access, and people who know how to use them, and even a proposed draft for the memo, so they are certainly able to print and distribute it.
• The person has sufficient authority in the organization, and the organization has made no explicit rule prohibiting such a statement, so it has nothing to do with permission.
• Therefore, we can only conclude that the person is unwilling to do so, despite indicating a willingness to do so beforehand, which … well, you get the idea.

There seems also a power dynamic to the continual misuse of "can't" with regard to their respective work within an organization. Those at the bottom seem split between saying they're unable and forbidden, in keeping with the lack of authority given to them. Those in the middle appear to utilize it more to voice their own fears and frustrations, having been given limited authority and even less clarity regarding the scope of their roles. And for those at the top, "You/they can't" often means the subject of the sentence are prohibited, while "I can't" is more about the person in charge being unwilling.

What to do about such conundrums? Well, transforming organizations and social interactions is not within my purview, but one thing within my power is to at least attempt to abandon my own usage of "can" and "cannot/can't" (and their simple past-tense forms "could/couldn’t") in favor of more precise references to ability, permission and willingness. At least my own speech and correspondence will be less vague.

As for others, the best recourse that comes to mind is, whenever they use these words, to insist on clarification: "Are you saying you're unable, unwilling, or forbidden? If unable, how so? If forbidden, by whom? And if unwilling, to what degree and for what reason?"

As an officer of my congregation, and as the spokesperson for a constituent group within Unitarian Universalism, I am often in the position of having to advocate and negotiate on behalf of others. That, in my mind, requires clarity in my expression. I hope those with whom I attempt to communicate in these contexts realize, see and do likewise.

Idolatry

A kinky Episcopalian acquaintance once commented in an interview that the BDSM community's biggest problem isn't lust, contrary to what right-wing religionists would say. No, the bulk of us seem to have a good handle on that. The biggest problem, in her view, is idolatry. Too many kinksters seem ready to exalt one thing or another as the "one true way," even to the point of ignoring the harm such an attitude might cause. I've addressed that before regarding a BDSM organization here in Boston, whose members seem to extol the group as the center of all things, regardless of its many shortcomings. And I've mentioned idolatry in other posts as well, from Tiger Woods to iPhone apps.

Thing is, my understanding of this concept differs from "traditional" definitions of the term. How exactly does a Unitarian Universalist define idolatry? And, just as important, how do we deal with it?

From the traditionalist perspective, the best nutshell definition of idolatry is worshipping something unworthy of worship. This, of course, becomes utterly subjective, as it depends entirely on one's own particular religious allegiance. And what do you do when you consider yourself a religious humanist, given your devotion to critical thinking, not to mention how (or whether) you're willing to incorporate traditional religious terminology?

Many Christians use an alternate definition: putting the created above the Creator. But what happens when you don't believe in an anthropomorphic creator (which applies not only to nontheistic humanists, but many process theologians and pantheists as well)? Perhaps another way to word this would be to put:
-- the part above the whole
-- the immediate above the Ultimate
-- the hypothetical above the categorical
-- the means above the ends
This last wording, in my mind, not only touches upon the act of idolatry, but the very mindset behind it. When we extalt an object, person, group, idea or procedure above its proper place, we are in effect making it an end in itself rather than a means. Kantians would argue that persons ought to be ends in themselves, but I'm sure they would also agree that this excludes ranking particular persons above others.

Idolatry is not merely making a means into an end, however; it is transposing means and ends. When Jesus condemned the legalism of religious leaders, he wasn't just talking about how they imposed numerous rules upon people -- he was pointing out how they were exalting the "letter of the law" (the means of maintaining right relationship) above the spirit which was its foundation (the desired end of a just and compassionate society).

We can see such examples of idolatry all around us. Holding a grudge places one's anger and sense of self-righteousness above the need for reconciliation. Restricting where all "sex offenders" can live and work, even for the sake of public safety, can harm individuals who pose little risk to society. Embracing a political or social case, to the point of neglecting one's personal life, in the end serves neither the cause nor oneself. Seeing a given organization as virtually infallible, and mindlessly denouncing anyone who would question or critique it, can undermine the very purpose for which the organization was created.

We can even make idols of selected aspects of our religious and spiritual communities. Legalism can place rules of conduct and discipline above compassion and discernment. Ritualism can elevate selected expressions of outward worship above the inner spiritual life. Proselytism can overemphasize qualitative growth and retention of membership above quantitative growth in relationships. Devotion to a specific form of polity can stifle attempts to improve how a movement can resolve issues in ever-changing circumstances.

And while hypocrisy can be one consequence or expression of idolatry, dogmatic adherence to codified beliefs can likewise lead some to ignore the harm such hidebound attitudes can bring to others. A hard-core libertarian's devotion to the "free market" can blind them to the darker aspects of capitalist excess, while staunch leftists are oft unaware of Clarence Darrow's admonition that "even the rich have rights." Perhaps these are the "foolish consistencies" of which Ralph Waldo Emerson cautioned us to avoid.

It is indeed a difficult thing to remain mindful of our core values, especially our need to promote right relationship. To reach that ideal, we create institutions to guide us along the path. Sometimes those institutions work, sometimes they don't, and sometimes they are only partial or temporary solutions. Yet institutions often have a habit of taking on a life of its own, thus making it harder to question whether we continue to need them, and how best to craft new means to better reach our desired ends. This is especially true when people become intensely passionate about something they helped to create -- or something they feel the need to destroy.

Avoiding idolatry is indeed a hard thing, not least of which because our culture and politics are so thoroughly enmeshed in the confusion of means and ends. At the very least, we must always ask ourselves: "What good will this do -- and at what cost?"

Leather & Grace, Part III: Playing with Power

We UUs have, to put it mildly, a rather ambivalent relationship with power. On the one hand, we come across as extreme individualists; on the other, we retain many of the structures and trappings of our Protestant Christian forebears. We detest creeds and shibboleths, constantly reviewing and questioning every jot and tittle of the covenants and affirmations which hold us together, arguing over resolutions and forcefully asserting our right to disagree. Yet we still call ministers, elect congregational boards, and turn to district and national staff for guidance. And even then, there will be those who complain that all these elected and appointed elites have “too much power” for their tastes.

Perhaps this is a core reason why so many UUs are uneasy with BDSM. It’s not the flogging or the bondage gear or the fetish attire – it’s the issue of power, of one person being dominant and the other submissive. To be more specific, it’s about assumptions regarding power, and how those assumptions can cloud our perception of the reality of D/s relationships. Longtime leatherman Hardy Haberman sums it up best:

For most of the world, domination is a sign of anger and suppression, yet in the context of a leather scene it can be an act of caring and affection. As children we were taught that submission is a sign of weakness, yet in our realm submission becomes a voluntary surrender of power and an act worthy of respect.

Dominants do not simply demand power from a submissive, nor does the submissive simply bow down at any given dominant’s command. The healthy D/s relationship is one of continual communication, negotiation and mutual growth – just as in any other human relationship, including those we find in spiritual community. And while D/s relationships may be overtly hierarchical, they begin from an equal footing, with each partner retaining the right to call for a reassessment of their relationship dynamics.

This is not to say that we don’t have kinksters with their own issues about power and control. But the BDSM community is in many ways a paradigm of an explicitly covenantal community. From customs and etiquette to written rules and contracts, we are constantly negotiating and delineating how we interact with one another, and what it means to be part of our tribe.

“But don’t we do that in UU circles, too?” Sure, although I’d say a considerable number of UUs do so “under protest” – that is, they’d rather not have to deal with power structures within our movement. Even more so in personal relationships, where feminist and progressive sensibilities presume that partners must be completely equal. Problem is, what if you don’t want to be always equal all the time? If equality is imposed – whether by rule of law or force of habit – how is that better than imposing hierarchical relationships? On the other hand, if the partners in a relationship mutually agree to other models for sharing and entrusting power, and they are happy in such an arrangement, how is that worse than any other?

Lord Acton is famous for the warning: “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely” – and you’ll note the emphasis added. When we consider power as a tool, a means to an end, then we are more likely to use it with balance, and to learn when and with whom it can be entrusted. It is when we see power as an end in itself, even as an entity unto itself, that we run into the dangers we so often fear.