Fear the Mob

– An Explanation, Not a Defense

I want to share a story. It’s one I’ve shared with numerous students over my career. Whether it makes anyone think differently or not, whether it will even give pause, I don’t know. But maybe it will explain how easily and quickly people can get caught up in a mob, in a moment.

It was the summer of my junior year in high school. I was traveling with some of my classmates on a church!-sponsored youth experience, working with other students from multiple European countries to rehab a castle in Untergruppenbach  Germany. We were, if memory serves (and, sadly, it’s not as good a servant as it used to be), the largest single contingent in the “camp.”

Conditions were, at least from an affluent American kid’s perspective, Spartan, although hardly something out of Oliver!, had it been filmed yet. We slept on cots in a room repurposed as a dormitory. But it was the food that became the bone of contention. Breakfast consisted of a kind of mush or oatmeal, mint tea, and bread. Our morning break was dark bread and more mint tea. Lunch was a repeat of breakfast. Not typical fare for us.

Our alleged leader, a young minister, apparently either took this “abuse” personally or took advantage of our complaining to try weasel his way into our hearts. (I freely admit that this is not an unbiased assessment of him; I didn’t like him, didn’t respect him, although, in my defense, his actions, and not just the one related in this anecdote, on this trip were the primary causes of my negative opinion.) In any case, about 3-4 days (as I recall) into the trip, he stood up at lunch one day, banged his bowl, and said, “We’re not taking this any more. Let’s go!”

It was, at that moment, I officially lost my mind... ...to the mob. Most (at least) of us also stood up, bowls of mush in hand, and, following his lead, stormed out the room, looking for the owner of the castle. Not sure what we were going to do when we found him; there were no chickens about, so “mushing and feathering” would seem to have been out. It didn’t take much stomping randomly through the building for some of us to decide, “Uh, this is stupid and embarrassing;” the mob lost steam and dissipated. We went from sheep to sheepishly returning to finish our gruel. 

That should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t, not for me. In retrospect, it remains one of the most frightening events of my life. I don’t pretend to be particularly modest about my intellectual abilities. But, for those brief minutes, my mind was not mine; I was not in control. I was just another anonymous follower. It is a feeling, one that strikes fear into my heart to this day, that I never want to repeat.

Imagine, now, had the grievance been serious, legitimate (at least in our perception), of long-standing, simmering on low-heat over a period of years. Cooks know it doesn’t take much more heat to turn a simmer into a raging boil, bubbling over onto the stove. If there’s no one there to turn down the heat, but instead add fuel to the fire (e.g., media and agenda-driven “leaders”)....

Think it couldn’t happen to you? Armies have relied on this semi-controlled sublimation of individual will for centuries. It’s the only rational explanation of the irrational act of charging to a certain death. Sports mobs, in and out of stadiums, are another common example. Mass hysteria is well documented. We all like to think we’re exceptional, to believe that we wouldn’t act that way, but there’s too much scientific evidence to the contrary for that to be true. Something to think about before we rush to judgment of others or absolve demagogues of responsibility.

Note: This sat in draft form for over two years, dating back to Ferguson and other events. The more things change....

Thanks for your service

This is an edited update of a blog piece from last week. It’s edited to include a link to an article provided by a friend of mine, Chris Counts, in response to my original. (http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/please-don’t-thank-me-for-my-service/ar-BBhPFEn) If you don’t want to read the whole piece (it’s not that long and worthwhile, IMO), it essentially confirms my original misgivings, at least for some vets. In addition, this updated version will be (re)posted on Facebook as a stand-alone article, and not, like the last time, as part of the “Comments” section to my original Facebook question/post. This typeface and style will denote the additions to the regular piece.

In part due to smarmy radio and television talking heads and politicians making a show of their patriotism by constantly thanking all past and present military for their service, I came to question whether “Thanks for your service” was always appropriate and well received. It seemed, to me, to have become sort of a pro forma statement, so I posted the following question on Facebook:

I have a question for my formers who are, or were, in the military. I had occasion to briefly interact with the son of a friend (also a former) who is currently serving. Because of my friendship with his mom, I've known him for a while and we've met before (didn't need to be introduced). After a brief conversation, we were saying our good-byes and I thanked him for his service. While sincere, that expression has seemed to become such a catch-phrase used so often that it sounds almost meaninglessly automatic, and, therefore, discounted. What is your reaction to being thanked in this way? Or am I overthinking again?

It would appear that, as is my wont, I was, indeed, overthinking – again.

What became clear was not only that is that statement well-received, the gratitude expressed is at least matched by the pride in their service, whether or not they view it as a sacrifice. Even when not seen as any kind personal sacrifice on their part, they recognized that for many of their brothers and sisters (both literal and in-arms), the service was indeed a sacrifice that deserves recognition.

There will always be exceptions, of course, but I hope, and do believe, that we have progressed as a country to the point where we can appreciate our servicemen and women while still, when necessary, separating their efforts on our behalf from whatever political decisions made by our government put them in harm’s way. The fact that they may have benefitted personally or professionally from their service does not discount its value to the rest of us.

So I will, when the opportunity presents itself, continue to express my thanks to our military men and women for their service to our country. That small token is the least that I can do. I will continue to support charities like The Wounded Warrior Project or St. Louis Honor Flight. Beyond that, I would hope that our politicians start doing more than wearing flag lapel pins and making speeches around election time; instead I hope they start keeping the promises, both implicit and implied, that have made not only to our soldiers but their families, as well (http://bobberndt.blogspot.com/2014/05/ought-to-be-no-brainer.html). That will take money and can’t be funded simply by cutting budgets or eliminating wasteful spending. We need to start recognizing the true and ongoing cost of maintaining – and supporting – our military and make decisions based on those numbers, not imaginary ones.

As one of the original commenters, a young man who has actually served, noted, it’s your sincerity that makes the difference. Any gratitude for anything, sincerely expressed, might be misunderstood or misinterpreted, but should never be a cause for regret or second-guessing. It is your responsibility to make sure that’s the case, however.

In the meantime, to all my friends and formers, as well as their families and extended families, my sincere thanks and appreciation for your service.

Cruise Diary 14: Days 8-11, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Mexico

It would appear that the Pacific side of these countries is more affluent than the Caribbean side. Not that you will want to go house hunting any time soon, but still, not nearly as depressing as what we saw last year.

As noted previously, Costa Rica is proud of its accomplishments and heritage. However, the one constant on this trip is that every guide feels the same way about his (or her) country. It truly irks me when the drum-beaters for “American Exceptionalism” fail to realize that most people, or at least those with a sense of country, believe that their country, too, is exceptional. Those same loud voices are also critical of the trend to eliminate winners and losers, the trophies for all attitude. “We can’t all be winners.”

I get that, but comparing your country to mine isn’t even a parlor game and what rules there may be come from those who want to stack the deck so that their homeland becomes the winner. National pride can’t only be good when it’s ours. Who is to say that we’re better than anyone else? I’d suggest we’d be better off treating our attitude toward our country like golf, and working on just being the best that we can, knowing there is always room for improvement, without the need to “beat” some other country. In the unlikely event that I could beat you (or anyone) in a golf match, it still wouldn’t mean I was any good.

Being better than the competition doesn’t mean you’re good. Being louder than the other side doesn’t mean you’re right. Bob Dylan long ago got it right when he said, “Not to climb up any higher but rather drag you down the hole that he’s in.” We should be cheering these countries as they work to develop their economies, education, social services, etc., even if not always the same way we would prefer. Instead, the American Exceptionalists seem to want to put a ceiling on others’ ambition so that we can wave our foam fingers and shout, “We’re #1!” to justify any action we take. Let’s at least not be offended or surprised when we get a different finger in return.

On a slightly different note, I must admit it was a bit disconcerting to see all the soldiers with big guns on our last two stops. I know I’m in the minority here, but being surrounded by armed people, even if it’s obviously the military doing its job, does NOT make me feel safer. It only makes me wonder when they’re going to use them, and on whom. And if you’re a civilian toting a gun, well, hey, you may know you’re not crazy or a threat to me, but I sure as hell don’t. Quite frankly, your need to display your weaponry is enough to make me wonder.

But back to foreign travel, we remember seeing lots of guns and armed security in Europe, especially Italy, almost 40 years ago. Didn’t make us feel safer then, either.

In any case, we’re happy to be trading the snow at home for the 80+ degree temperatures here, at least temporarily. And now a few random pictures:

Cruise Diary 2014: Day 8, Costa Rica

Costa Rica is clearly several steps ahead of its Central American neighbors. It is a stable democracy with a higher standard of living than any we have seen. Free public education, K-12, is probably the backbone of its progress. Spanish and English are the required languages in school.

Let me digress here for a minute. I confess that the constant drumbeat of negativity towards education and teachers in the U.S. has discouraged me. But I’m starting to wonder where the symphony is coming from, because I have yet to meet, on these cruises, and we’re not talking the hoi polloi, or in my interactions with parents in any school with which I’ve been associated over the last 40+ years, almost anyone who has less than respect and admiration for teachers. Who are the politicians playing, to, exactly, besides themselves and a few well-heeled anti-public education donors? The election results on Proposition 3, which carried exactly zero (0, none, zilch, nada, etc.) counties across the state, indicate at least widespread general support for schools and teachers. Stand tall, my colleagues who continue the battle, and don’t get believe the negative propaganda.

Costa Rica was, and still is, way ahead of the curve on environmental issues. Recycling containers are everywhere, the country generates no carbon-based electricity, they work to protect their environment, and the people seem committed to the process. Who figured this out so far in advance of the rest deserves a medal.

They are proud of the fact that they abolished their army in 1948. I’m guessing they’re counting on us to defend them should someone get frisky, but that cost would almost certainly be less than what we’ve spent on some of the other hot spots in Central America over the past decades.

Costa Ricans also brag about their socialized medicine. If you’re sick, if you need medical attention, you get it. Built into those costs are a pension system. Now I have not done a lot of research, don’t know if it’s sustainable, but it seems as if the country is happy with its direction, and has probably generated fewer protests and riots than even our own.

Their taxes are not low, exactly, but seemingly are lower than Europe and perhaps even ours, in some places. If the information was accurate, you don’t pay income tax until you hit $70,000, and the minimum wage is based on two-weeks wages, about $600, not an hourly minimum. Our guide was stunned when I shared with him McDonald’s advice to its full-time employees: “You’re going to need another job to make a living wage.” Oh, and Wal-Mart is definitely here, but in disguise, running stores under different names.

Draw your own conclusions. I’m not suggesting a utopia – most of the houses, even those that are obviously less than affluent, have bars on the windows and doors to keep out thieves and robbers. But that, at least according to our guide, is generally the extent of crime in the country.

Our excursion was to an active volcano. There are nine of them in Costa Rica, all interconnected as part of the Ring of Fire (not the Johnny Cash song). Only one is conical; not the one we saw. These volcanoes don’t spew lava, like Hawaii and other places, but do emit gasses and even stones when they erupt. Geothermal energy provides about 10% of Costa Rica’s electricity. Lots of earthquakes and tremors, about 500 per year, on average. But a beautiful country.

The last couple pictures show the creativity of their wood-carving artisans. The first is the world’s largest oxcart, beautifully painted and decorated. The last, well, just whimsy on their part and mine.