Affirmative In-action

His words speak to us from a time long ago, but possibly not so very far away from where we now live. In his youth he served his country, earning promotions that led to submarine command. After the Great War he married, tried his luck at farming before following the leanings of his heart in studying for the ministry. Ordained as a pastor in his nation’s largest Christian denomination, he, like so many others in his era, became caught up in the political fervor that sought restoration of his country’s former prosperity. But then his conscience began to get in the way, and ultimately his convictions got him into trouble. Along with a few other outspoken voices willing to challenge the prevailing winds of change, he was put behind bars in what became an eight-year sentence. After his release he shared what his silence had kept hidden. 

Pastor Martin Niemöller was, by most accounts, lucky to have survived Nazi concentration camps. Yet the scars he carried from his complicity with the culture that embroiled the world in an unequaled holocaust of destruction and suffering would never fully heal, and would never—should never—be forgotten. Admittedly Niemöller was just one person in a sea of others whose chances of redirecting the trajectory of terrors unfolding all around him were, at best, slim. Perhaps it was that realization that convinced him to watch, and wait, and hold his tongue hoping things would change, or that others, perhaps better equipped to make a difference, would, in fact, do so.

Over our lifetimes we doubtless have more opportunities to do, or say something, in the face of wrongs to which we are witnesses, than we could ever count. How fortunate it is that memory tends to be selective, allowing us to forget and move on from many of these failures. Yet as we age the recollection of pains, embarrassments, and regrets have a way of percolating back into consciousness and troubling our sleep.

Recently two of our own Niemöller moments have called to mind many of the same feelings of resignation and impotence he must have endured. In his case it took years for the murderous regime to take hold of a Germany not willing to see, hear or speak about its evil. For the tragedy of errors that played out in Uvalde, Texas, it was a mere 81 minutes. That’s all the time that was needed for innocents to be snuffed out by the deranged violence of a single adolescent with an assault weapon he was ill-qualified to possess, let alone use. And while America watched in disbelief on a January 6 not long ago, a few hours of civil disobedience erupted into a full-blown assault on the seat of our national government. Less than three miles away our Commander In Chief, for more than three hours, watched it unfold on the TV that arrested his White House dining room gaze. Whether in Germany, a small town in Texas, or in the city named after a president for whom courage and integrity were synonymous—evil that is ignored is evil that is affirmed.

By connecting these dots I’m not trying to pile on to the avalanche of criticisms already leveled against Germans, law enforcement officers, or former presidents. Instead I am offering an assessment of human behavior that, unfortunately, time and circumstance confirm more often than they should. For it seems that during moments of crisis—whether impending or in process—we humans will, as often as not, choose to stand aside, or stand down, or just turn our heads. It takes no psychological genius to understand why. We are afraid, wary of any number of real or imagined threats that fuel our fear and paralyze our resolve.

What if we get found out and brought before the authorities? What if we get hurt, or killed? What if those upon whom we look for support and approval turn against us? What if we’re wrong, and live to regret voicing our opinion or expressing our outrage? The list of what-if’s and why-should-I’s is probably as long and as personal as our own catalogue of insecurities and self-doubts. But no matter the excuse we may offer, the fact remains: our silence and inaction when witnessing anything that threatens life, liberty and happiness is tantamount to our giving it our tacit consent. Or, as the title of this piece suggests:  inaction in the face of evil is, in fact, an affirmation of its legitimacy, for that is how it will be understood by those who, sad to say, will be eager to exploit it.

This truism has hounded me at every step of my own life’s journey, from childhood through adolescence, as a single and married adult, and as a parent and grandparent. It has been part of the landscape of every job I was privileged to work since I first punched a time clock or cashed a paycheck. I’m sure I learned it from parents who were as determined that I grow up knowing right from wrong as they were hopeful I’d grow up healthy and happy. Yet growing up is an ever-awakening process in which we must come to terms with what it means to be responsible for and accountable to others. And that demands of each of us the unavoidable role of being someone’s elder, someone’s role model, someone’s leader.  In my experience, those who wear this mantle best are those who are willing to lead by precept and example, by word and deed. The respect such folks command is built upon the integrity and honor they embody, distinguishing them from those whose authority only rests solely on the titles they may temporarily hold and the popularity they may fleetingly claim.

My dad used to encourage me to work at becoming a person unafraid to demonstrate the courage of his convictions. His words have stayed with me, even if I have failed to live up to them more often than not. But I continue to try to emulate the moxie, the gumption, and even the tough love of those for whom leadership is more than a trendy platitude. And whenever I see these traits in others, I am both moved and shamed.   

Perhaps you have been inspired by the leadership you’ve seen in

·      moms and dads willing to say “no” or set limits for their children when it is easier giving in or offering excuses for their behavior;

·      teachers who care more about being respected by their students than being their buddies and FAV’s;

·      coaches who care enough to hold their athletes to the highest standards in giving them both praise and criticism; 

·      pastors determined to speak the truth rather instead of pandering to what their congregations would prefer to hear;

·      those who wear the uniforms of our police, fire fighters and military and never waver in putting others before themselves, no matter the cost;

·      politicians who care more about upholding the Constitution than in securing re-election.

When folks like this are thrust into leadership, if even for a moment, they understand and embrace this truism: “those for whom much is entrusted, much more is expected.”*

The plain fact is, however, that most of us do succumb to inaction, to silence, to a weakening of the will in the face of adversity or in the hour of trial. If we lived in the Far East any such loss of face might compel us to take own lives in salvaging our honor before our families and peers. But all too often in our Western climate of self-esteem and CYA righteousness, we reach for excuses and alibis, deflections and rationalizations. And on those increasingly rare occasions when we do own up to our errors and offer sorrow and regret for our actions—or inactions-—our apologies often reek of an insincerity and staged self-effacement that is as hard to believe as it is to accept. I can only wonder what will be the lasting impact of the lessons in feigned humility and calculated obfuscation we’ve been teaching our children over the last several decades.  I fear it can’t bode well for them, or for the future of our nation.

The image of three skeletonized figures that heads this essay graphically reminds us that there are things we should never listen to, observe, or pass on. And as a corrective to our many temptations to revel in malicious gossip and deliberate misinformation, the depiction remains both apt and timely. But the memory of the impotency of German clerics, Texas police officers and a recent president in the face of evil is one we dare not forget. For each of them makes clear what most of us accept as true and expect from those who dare to lead:  

there is one and only one time we have to address and confront evil—NOW

there is one and only one person who can expose it and oppose it—ME.

*Attributed to Jesus of Nazareth in Luke 12:48