Social Coercion

A friend of mine, a co-host on our radio show, had no more than uttered these words “social coercion”, when the part of me that is looking for possible Slow Lane material started up. I don’t know exactly why these words agitated me so. I’m hoping to find out as I reflect upon what got stirred within me. All I know for sure is that I could smell something that was more complex than it seemed. I think I gravitated to it much like the salmon is drawn back to its spawning place.

Social coercion. That sounds so much like being bullied by the masses. I guess for some it is. It implies that actions are the result of others. This is an anti-democratic nightmare. Somebody manipulates others to have their will. It is no wonder that groups are not trustworthy. The social arena is full of this harmful possibility. People worry because social coercion is everywhere; from advertising, political spin, religious proselytizing and all forms of fixing, healing and converting. The world of social connection is full of it. 

There is a necessary evil that haunts us as a social animal (social coercion), so much so that I think we would rather demonize it than learn to deal with it. In other words, social coercion is a natural phenomenon in a world of connection. Throwing it out, or acting surprised and intolerant of it, would be like throwing the baby out with the bath water. I don’t think my friend was doing anything like this when he mentioned social coercion, but my antenna went wild, because we live in such a fragmented culture, and there is so much distrust around, that I could believe someone might argue that if we could put an end to social coercion we might have a saner more humane world.

As you probably can tell, I think social coercion is one form of that which binds each of us to the other. Relationship necessarily involves enough pushing and shoving so that all parties can learn, if they want to, how to take care of themselves. Relationship, if it is the real deal, involves realities colliding; a certain amount of jousting to find out what is possible. If coercion, taking one’s own position and advocating for it, was looked at a path to social hell, then we as a species would be so cut-off, and so isolated that we could no longer consider ourselves to be social animals.

Maybe this isn’t common knowledge, or it isn’t something people actually grasp, but each of us lives in a bubble we call reality. This bubble is composed of everything we see and believe in. The world we live in is partially composed of the bubble (worldview) we apply to it. From the world we create with our bubbles comes our sense of self. The science of human development reveals that maturation involves giving up one bubble (the partial worldview), and sense of self you have, for a more complex, more complete bubble (another less-partial worldview), and a more capable, functional self. The great spiritual practices are based upon the same recognition. Reality becomes more real, more as it is, as we give up our insistences that it conform to our constructs. Life, more or less, coerces us out of blindness into the light.

People give up their bubbles for various reasons, sometimes it’s voluntary, sometimes it’s not. In the meantime all of these bubbles coexist and press on each other. Social reality is made up of multiple coexisting bubbles, upon which, there are also multiple identities — selves trying to live up to their worldviews. To be true to oneself in this kind of tumultuous free for all social space is hard. And, this hardship, plus exposure to all of these partial worldviews, is just what humans need to grow and become what they are capable of being. The tumult, including what can be considered social coercion, tempers us, and confers upon us the choices we must make to become ourselves.

Social coercion is a complex phenomenon. I’d like to do away with some forms of it (for example gang or fraternity hazing rites) but I’m concerned that that would weaken our social immune system and leave us even more vulnerable to toxic worldviews. I think that social coercion begs not to be stopped, but to be out grown. The more solid I am, the more confident I am in my own worldview (bubble), the less I worry about coercion. Paradoxically, this strength or confidence, comes from regularly and completely rubbing shoulders with this sea of others who hold differing viewpoints. The most useful response to social coercion is through exposure to social coercion.

I am more worried about the impulse to limit the pressures of social coercion, than I am concerned about social coercion. I know a lot of damage has been done, especially to voiceless minorities, but I don’t want us (humanity) to denature ourselves (each other) rather than grow ourselves. Social coercion is the water we learn to be ourselves in; it is the complex environment that coaxes out of us our own nuances.

While I’m dwelling on this topic I just have to say that one of the most basic and virulent forms of social coercion is the misuse of the word “we.” We is a powerful word. It can refer to the existence of the collective, the community of connection, that always exists, or it can be used as the worst form of inclusiveness that paradoxically excludes differences. “We” has been a generalization that has led to genocide, slavery and many forms of extreme prejudice. It behooves us all to pay attention to how the word is used by each of us. It is an indicator of what kind of bubble any of us lives in.

I think it better not to think so much in terms of social coercion, but to think more in terms of social diversity.

Seeing and Being Seen

There is an antidote to the plague of separation that seems to assail everyone in western industrial culture. Isolation is optional, not so much a product of having the invisibility cloak (see an earlier Slow Lane) thrown over one, as much as a choice to be seen. Visibility, and social isolation, are aided and abetted by decisions we ourselves make, by developmental conditions we foster, as we assume or avoid responsibility for ourselves. Isolation is as much self-imposed as it is a product of the culture we live in. Nobody is really a victim of a society caught-up in individualism. Responsibility for separation, for social isolation, for depressive ennui, is personal: resting upon how well one sees and allows themselves to be seen. Here’s what I mean.

If it is true that community conveys a personal sense of connection, which I think it does, then being known, which is how a personal sense of connection evolves, is a matter of being seen, and I would stipulate, of seeing. The bonding that is the hallmark of communal intimacy is composed of the same ingredients in a lower intensity, than those that determine social isolation and separation. By this I mean, that seeing and being seen are two of the common ingredients that determine how well we are known. So what? Why does that matter? It doesn’t, unless we want to evolve socially. The future of our kind might depend upon an increasing ability to see and be seen.

Seeing is in part a product of personal development. It is more than simply not being caught in the social trance that puts blinders on most of us. Being seen is a personal responsibility. It is more than a product of other’s blindness; it is a willingness to be transparent. Both of them take development, time to ripen, and enormous responsibility for self and other. They are the by-product benefits of community and solitude.

Seeing evolves. Every step along the arc of development involves beholding a larger, more complex and more complete picture. It literally takes a while for the eyes to adjust. What happens is that the eyes adjust to a more nuanced world and who we are, gets to be discovered as more nuanced too. Others become more vivid. Seeing becomes, the world changes, and what one may not want to see grows visible. Life gets livelier, wilder and more mysterious. Uncertainty flowers.

This all happens whether one likes it or not, and it all asks each of us if we are going to be part of the world we see? Or, if we are going to shut our eyes and imagine we are in another world that we believe we can handle? The choice is ours. But the implications go far beyond us. That is the hell, the communal responsibility, which often makes us chose blindness, and contributes to an ethos of not seeing and separation. Seeing stops when each of us chooses how much we are willing to see.

My family and I used to have a joke, we were seasick because we saw too much. The joke, of course was on us, because our actual sickness, how separated we felt, was our unwillingness to see what lay before and within us. So much was left unseen, including whole aspects of ourselves, and each other.

This is a good place to segue into the responsibility each of us has for being seen. It’s evident now that being seen has an inner component as well as an external one. If we are refusing to see in some way, then we are unlikely to see ourselves very accurately, and unable to make ourselves accurately known. Our chosen blindness contributes to the  social blindness around us, and insures the invisibility of lots of the world. It also disables us

Freedom, the chance to be oneself, the greater chance to discover one’s true nature, to know how connected one is, to even know something of that “larger something” one is connected with, and defined by, rests completely in the frightening capacity to make oneself seen. When one lets go of holding oneself hostage, then one arrives fully in the world, becoming visible. Such availability exposes one to the myopia of others. Being available to be seen can be painful and disappointing, but these are the conditions that make being seen possible. Freedom to be oneself comes with the sometimes painful responsibility of being scrutinized. 

Being seen is a choice. It is a form of exposure that populates the world with diversity and insures that real connection can take place. Community, which provides the prospect of truly being known, thrives on this kind of self-exposure. This choice isn’t the standard cultural activity, it is a preciously rare form of social activism. Choosing to be seen, standing out, is a courageous choice, especially when one actually sees the complexity of this world. Community is an antidote, a balm in an avalanche of  separation, but one that can only offer being known, to the degree of seeing and being seen, that is being practiced.

Admiration

A few weeks ago I was sitting in a circle contemplating an upcoming meeting with some young people. An elder in the circle commented that our job as elders had to include admiring the young. In addition to helping me better prepare for meeting this young couple, these words, started me thinking.  My thoughts have, as they always do, run toward community. It occurred to me that everyone needs to be admired, and that admiration could be one of the greatest gifts we can give to each other. These thoughts unlocked a door for me, and they are taking me into a new relationship with myself, and others. I hope, with these words, to share a little of that with you.

Not long ago I had an experience I didn’t know how to talk about. I found myself in a room full of dying people. These people didn’t have obvious illnesses, or even much real-time awareness of dying, but they all were on the same trajectory towards death. I was vividly aware that each was a dying human, that each was passing very quickly, and that I couldn’t do much about it. I felt vulnerable, helpless and strangely touched. As long as that moment lasted I could feel my love and appreciation for the uniqueness of each of them. I knew how grateful I was to be exposed to them.

The vividness with which I experienced the impending deaths of my friends has brought each of their qualities into my awareness. Noticing how quickly we are all passing has delivered me to a realization of how precious and unique each of us is. I more directly experienced the passion and heartache that underlies each life, and I could appreciate the personal, heroic struggle of each, as they chose to be human in their own way. I could feel how enriched my life is because each of them touched me, on their way into the mysterious darkness of death. I found myself smitten by the magnitude of our humble lives, awed and grateful, enlivened and trembling.

I couldn’t talk about the vividness of this experience, because it left me too raw, and too uncertain about speaking to the dying about dying. I still feel shaken about entering the land of the dying. I am noticing, while I am here, that I appreciate more the efforts that many are making to be as alive as possible as they pass from this earth. I am drawn to those who have been beaten, and are still magnificent, they give their life-energy fully, and they hearten me. I am filled with real, not manufactured, admiration.

I have been dwelling with this new, death-aided, admiration, since I have been initiated into the world of the dying. Paradoxically, I feel more alive, connected, and appreciative. I don’t take my friends for granted any more; they have become miracles I am blessed to be around. Each of them reveals to me something of the courage that being human requires. Each of them reminds me of how much profusion and diversity is in Creation.

Along with a more vivid relationship with the actuality of death has come a greater admiration for the living. And, this has lead to a greater desire on my part to let my fellow community members know how precious they are to me, and how well I see them. It seems to me, that perhaps the greatest gift I can give to another human being is to show them how well they are seen and appreciated. Community bonds grow with such acknowledgement

I have wondered how I might best serve my community. Now, I think I know. If I can fully live in the land of the dying, I can feel the courage and passion that goes into living out the part of Creation that is an expression of our vulnerable existence. I benefit by knowing the truth of this life: that it ends, and I get to see the utterly human way most of us deal with that truth. Some people, notably the people in my elder community, engage me and introduce me to a form of authenticity that gives me hope for life. I admire that, and I want to be around them, as we struggle to be true to the nature that endowed us with this precious chance.

I know I have wanted to be seen my entire life. The loneliness I feel so deep in my body is a product of that longing. There is no such thing as coming home, for me, without some sense of being known. This is the kind of sustaining food that I crave — being known, not as a therapist, community-builder, lover of art, music, poetry, men and women, but as a holy mystery, a part of the greater whole that lives through us. I crave the puppy pile of sharing recognition of this deeply mysterious existence. Admiring others, knowing them as they pass through, and bravely try to shape this existence, is such a gift, one that goes both ways, one that makes Life all that much more a miracle.

I’m glad I get to share it with you. And, I admire how you have done it.