Absolute Belief
And a cautionary word
Choosing to act righteously, even when circumstance might suggest compromise or hesitation, is part of the ethical tool kit of American culture. It is one of the guides that Americans have followed throughout our history. Think, perhaps, of Roger Williams leaving the Massachusetts Bay Colony for the wilderness outpost of Rhode Island, rather than accept Winthrop’s compromises with the colony’s English sponsors. It is pacifism in a time of national crisis. It is unwavering commitment to an absolute belief, even to the gallows. (And, as I have written in an earlier blog, it makes practical politics and effective government difficult.)
Thomas More, in Bolt’s play, A Man for all Seasons, responds to his friend’s plea to go along with the rest of us and support the King, “for fellowship” (and to save his own life):
“And when we die, and you are sent to heaven for doing your conscience, and I am sent to hell for not doing mine, will you come with me, for fellowship.”
One can make a strong case for such courage and moral certainty. We erect statues of such a person, often on horseback.
But here is the cautionary note. How often does the mind fool the would-be heros and their interpretation of true belief conform to self-interest. Think specifically of the absolutes by which we express our faith in one or another abstract conception of economics.
And is it not interesting that our choice of absolutes so often benefits our careers?
While absolutism is an American virtue (or vice), a strong tradition of pragmatism also runs through our culture, as we again and again have taken seriously an approach to reality that seeks new insight in a world that our actions constantly change.
Actually, to be truly visionary, realism is the “hard medicine” we often need to take.
We can be as faithful to the dreams we have and the new realities we discover, as to the old truths we inherited.
May I close with a poem I’ve been working on for a long time?
He who wavers on the gravel path, Twisting the wayward ends Of blossom days into enchantments, Is my brother. I meadowed with him in the Spring Caught thorned roses in their fall, Drank each day’s unbroken song. Together we shall enter the harbor of the call. Fresh winds will take us toward shores that only now are rising from the waves. Beyond the horizon, islands are forming and every map is false. We will sail through storms, and fare well. We will fare forward.