Musings: On Archetypes

Flipping on the radio, I heard the unmistakeable voice of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., delivering his famous “I've been to the mountaintop” speech just a day before he was gunned down.

What struck me in particular were these words:

We mean business now, and we are determined to gain our rightful place in God's world.


And that's all this whole thing is about. We aren't engaged in any negative protest and in any negative arguments with anybody. We are saying that we are determined to be men. We are determined to be people.

His words about people just seeking to be — not tear down or destroy others, but simply be — stand in such sharp contrast to the polarization that now grips our nation. Though King's movement, and the era it dominated, fostered the tolerance that made desegregation, women's rights, gay marriage, environmental protection and animal welfare possible, it seems the pendulum is swinging back again, to a place where we won't let others be — unless we 100 percent agree.

It made me think of a retreat I attended last weekend, where a woman who has long been a student of Buddhism spoke of the need for “radical inclusivity.” She then went on to tell of how she felt sick to her stomach after the election because she'd never realized how many racists and misongynists live in this country.

So what happened to the radical inclusivity, which would necessarily include those whose views and values differ greatly from our own? What made anyone think that racism and misogony had somehow disappeared from our society, even as so many signs point otherwise? And does anyone truly believe that everyone who voted for Trump is a racist misogynist?

All the pronouncements and judgments we see on both side of the political spectrum are couched in sanctimony, self-righteous smugness, complete disdain for the other, who in actuality isn't all that different than the we.

King then told the story of a priest and a Levite who failed to render aid to a man on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho:

And finally a man of another race came by. He got down from his beast, decided not to be compassionate by proxy. But he got down with him, administered first aid, and helped the man in need. Jesus ended up saying, this was the good man, this was the great man, because he had the capacity to project the "I" into the "thou," and to be concerned about his brother.

Seems to me like we're all – myself included — far too wrapped up in the “I” at the expense of our compassion for the “thou.”

King went on to say:

We don't have to argue with anybody. We don't have to curse and go around acting bad with our words. We don't need any bricks and bottles. We don't need any Molotov cocktails. We just need to go around to these stores, and to these massive industries in our country, and say,

"God sent us by here, to say to you that you're not treating his children right. And we've come by here to ask you to make the first item on your agenda fair treatment, where God's children are concerned.”

Though his words were offered in the context of applying economic pressure, his core message was about fairness.

And that's the crux of our deep polarization now. People on both ends of the political spectrum believe they've been treated, or are about to be treated, unfairly. They're digging in, and they ain't gonna budge an inch. 

It's so much easier to think about what's unfair, than what is fair. The former focuses on the “I” while the latter addresses the “thou.”

So we're stuck — until both sides set off in pursuit of common ground.

Although my parents were fond of saying, in response to my railings about this or that, “Who ever told you life was fair?” their words didn't deter me. I've been driven all my life by the need to find what's fair.

It's what motivated me to speak out against the anti-GMO movement, even though it put me on the side of multinational agrichemical companies whose practices I don't fully embrace. I'm not a pesticide lover. I don't get paid to espouse pro-seed company views. I don't think biotechnology is flawless, or that every GMO is good.

I just hate lies and fear-mongering, because they're the antithesis of fairness. And yes, I know the agrochemical companies do it, too. But they weren't deliberately using those tactics to tear apart my community.

It may s‬eem odd for me to preach the “come together” message. I readily admit that I've engaged in ruthless, intentional polarization aimed at marginalizing the anti-GMO movement, exposing it as the loud-mouthed, ignorant, intolerant fringe that it is, its leaders motivated at worst by financial self-interest and at best by a lack of introspection, as characterized so well by this recent Facebook post directed at Trump, but also true of the poster, if she'd just hold up a mirror:

Karen Chun   while you’re busy picking his lies apart, he’ll spit out another mountain of bullshit and you’ll be buried under it.

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But I'll be the first to acknowledge that not every person concerned about GMOs fits the above description — just as not every person who supports Trump is a racist. And that's what happens when we generalize: we lie. Which also means, we're unfair.

At the workshop I mentioned earlier, we walked around a mandala that had images depicting four common archetypes: teacher, healer, creator, warrior. Like most people, I've got aspects of them all. But for a number of years now, I've been assuming most often the role of warrior. And as I stood there and looked at the images, I felt the pain inherent in that ancient archetype.

Sometimes we need warriors. But that role requires one to pick sides, identify an other to oppose. There has to be someone or something to fight, which pretty much ensures polarization, guarantees that the conflict will never be over.

As a species, we've been dominated by that particular archetype for quite a long time now.

What sort of world might we build if we allow teacher, creator, healer, to shine? 

The choice, as always, is ours.