by Nora Bateson
I cannot offer any such program. It would be hypocrisy for me to do so. My whole life is centered around advocating for the delicate interdependencies of life. As a result, my work is sometimes seen as ethereal, my students are frustrated because the only ‘given’ is change. Life is mutual learning. Life shifts, systems are in flux, for better and for worse. The unspeakable beauty of those interdependencies exactly matches the horror. The beauty lies in the ever-forming symmetries and asymmetries that evolve into unimaginable grace, and the horror in the sense that there is so much uncertainty and so little control.
I won’t likely stand down from my advocacy of this messy interaction with life. It is not just a method of making decisions—it is an aesthetic. There is no hard evidence to back up the statistical efficiency of an aesthetic. But that does not mean that there is nothing practical in the material I offer.
In defense of a world that is characterized by mutual learning between variables in a given context—a world that does not stay the same, a world that won’t be mechanized or modeled—in defense of that world, I maintain that nothing could be more practical than to become more familiar with the patterns of movement that life requires. The goal is not to crack the code, but rather to catch the rhythm.
The world is complex, and the complexity is not manageable in a predictable, strategic plan. Looking around the globe I think it is permissible to make the sweeping statement that our attempts at control, no matter how often they have been verified by quantitative methods, are not working. Where does that leave us?
If you do not know what the terrain of a marathon is, you had better be prepared for anything. Most importantly, be prepared to make spontaneous decisions based on an assessment of the context at the time. Long preparations for a run across the desert will not be useful in the event of urban snowstorm conditions. In this era of complexity, we do not know what is coming, and I believe it is both impractical and potentially unethical to pretend we do.
Why is it that a discussion of life in which these many relational, moving, learning variables are brought into the description is considered abstract, while the description that isolates, fragments, objectifies the parts of a system is considered practical? Should it not be the other way around? Is it not an abstraction to pull a person, idea, or organism from the contextual relationships of family, food, culture, feelings, ecology and so on and label them? Is it not more abstract to take a piece of the living world and try to make sense of it without all of the contextual, contributing aspects of its vitality? Can we really understand anything without context?
So, the point, the deliverable, the practicality of my work is not to offer concrete solutions, or stepped improvement plans. It is to offer an invitation in to a world that does not sit still, and encourage an increase in sensitivity to the complexity in all of its glory and gore. My work is premised on the idea of mutual learning between and within living contexts. This learning does not stop. It is not always progressive, or good: sometimes learning to be in a context includes addiction, pathology, and so on. We cannot control mutual learning; we cannot solve it. But, we can become more able to take in and consider the complexity we are faced with if we approach it from this stance.
The quandary I often hear is that complexity takes too long, and it is impossible to ever understand all of the infinite interrelationships. How do we use it? Both as individuals and as professionals we have to make choices and take action in the moment of life; we can’t sit around and contemplate these ‘abstractions’ of swirling variables forever. It is true; it takes longer to consider complexity. It is true also that we will never understand all of the infinite interrelationships. ‘Can we afford the time and effort to try?’ is a good question. My only response is: ‘Can we afford not to?’
The unpredictable continues into the consequences of decisions made with the idea of static systems in mind. The strategy of isolating information does not extend into the system once we have chosen ‘action.’ Whatever those plans beget becomes part of the complexity that continues from then on. The interrelations creep back in, the interdependencies overlap and overtake the clear, simple, ‘practical’ plan. The larger ecology of the situation always drowns fragmented attempts to control it. Unfortunately, it does so with unwieldy difficulty and reactions to reactions that we cannot undo. Example: Read the headlines of any paper and the iterations of reactions are there to be seen. But, this is only possible if you look with eyes that search for continuum; if you are looking for linear stories with beginnings, middles, and endings, that is what you will find. In which case, you won’t be able to see the ways in which these patterns are overlapping. You will not have access to the deeper alchemy.
We cannot know the systems, but we can know more. We cannot perfect the systems, but we can do better. The evolution of our own ability to understand and interact with the world around us is an increase in our ability to be sensitive to information we have previously been blind to. That is learning to learn.
At the edges of the given patterns, there are liminal zones. The boundaries. This is where interaction takes place. These are the places where the directions of potential pathways as yet uncharted live. An example of this might be the medical system in the US, which at present is so entangled with the insurance industry that the system is in a holding pattern. What is the relationship between this bind and the development of alternative medicine in the subculture? Will those that cannot afford insurance find ways to steal from other the parts of the system so they can pay for basic medical attention? Or both? Entire industries are developing in the margins of this conundrum. Where will they go? How might the politicians in Washington, DC approach their decision-making differently given greater sensitivity to the consequences and consequences of consequences within the entire social construct?
These questions do not have answers. They are avenues where inquiry is invited. With luck the inquiry will lead to further inquiry. A good question leads to better questions. A simple question gets a simple answer, and we do not live in a simple world.
I maintain, at the risk of being called abstract, that the possibility of an increase in our ability to receive nuanced information about the interactions in a complex system exists. This is my optimism. This is where I place hope for the coming eras. We need that sensitivity to live better lives. This is the sensitivity that will allow us to understand our spouses better, to raise our children better, to grow food better, study life better, and organize our world better. It will also make us into artists. I maintain that nothing could be more practical.
Sound of Sun
William Bateson said, “Treasure your exceptions.” In unseen banal moments, a visiting unreasonable notion can come along and unwrite the limits of our thinking. Such wonders wait with the infinitude of what we never saw in the margins of our sensibleness. When asked how smell moves, a group of 5-year-olds came up with a theory that they built a whole world around—deciding that ghosts pull smells on strings you cannot see.
Tiny dreaming grass sprouts tenderness between languages.
The sunlight in waves might be audible to the plants. Do the ferns know the creek has stopped running? The sound waves are not tickling their delicate hair. Drought is coming. Stay small.
When ancient and modern vocabularies in multiple mother-tongues weave together, they form ambiguities. These composites are, for me, as close as anyone can come to speaking truth.
Play with the edges.
What Do You See When You Look at Her Face? How Is She Feeling Now?
Right now, not later, is the time to begin to find a way to confront racism and bigotry when they occur in public. Hundreds of years of abhorrent behavior do not justify another minute of it. Enforced governmental equality mandates and laws would be helpful, but until then, on a person to person basis—in our everyday lives, every single incident of bigotry needs to be fished out of the pool of human interaction like so many turds.
Yesterday, I was on the subway in Stockholm w
hen a Muslim woman sat down next to an old woman of white skin tones. The latter hesitated, looked the Muslim woman over and then moved to a seat in the next subway car. From where I sat I saw the Muslim woman watch the elderly woman move to another seat. The politics of the airwaves became intensely personal.
I agree that rapid cultural integration is not easy. Over the last several years Sweden has taken in more refugees than most countries around the world and is collectively struggling to find balance. And, as these refugees are moved into communities that have been largely culturally homogenous there is bound to be friction. But the friction is being frothed up and presented as another political opinion. For some reason I cannot fathom, the press has given time and voice to the irresponsible drama of people who are making public statements of racism. This climate of hate that is being brewed is going to increase this sort of incident, as well as much more volatile ones. This is dangerous.
As I watched this insult unfold on the subway that day, I found that I did not know what to say or do. I know in my bones that I should have done something, but I do not know what. I wonder how many times a day on this train this scenario is repeated. How many more people will face this shame today?
The humiliation that the Muslim woman had been subjected to was appalling. I cannot put words to her experience, but for my part, I know that even though I was screaming on the inside, I hesitated to speak out. Racism is nothing new, but something else is brewing now, something sinister and dangerous. I always wondered how it could have possibly happened that the people of Germany in the late 1920s and early 1930s could have allowed the escalation of public sentiment that became the concentration camps. In my naiveté I assumed that world had learned a lesson. I thought the history of Nazism would always stand out as one of the most shameful depictions of humanity. But here we are, in 2016, watching public expression of racism build into right-wing movements that disavow the suffering millions who wait to be allowed to enter the countries that can help. I have never understood how those in office turned away the boats of Jews seeking refuge from the Nazis. Their excuses are inexcusable. As I reflect now on this incident on the train I see warning signs of that time.
I was silent. I know I should not have been. I am writing now to abate that silence. Why did I not speak up? I am not sure. There were many contexts of silence that seemed to swallow my words. I was held back by the suspicion that any sort of public confrontation might further put the Muslim woman in the hot seat. I did not want to add to the suffering that was already under way. What I wanted to do was to scream out in disgust at the behavior of the older white woman, and of the entire population of spite-spewing, bigoted ignoramuses. But I wanted to do so without making it worse for the Muslim woman who was already humiliated.
What can be said or done that will be effective in these situations as they arrive day-to-day, subway-by-subway, and scene-by-scene?
I could have gone to sit by her. But again, that would have highlighted the horror of the moment in a way that the quiet tension did not. It felt like a courtesy to allow a little silent dignity so she could just go wherever she was going without public invasion. I suppose it would have been better to have confronted the old woman. She was the perpetrator of this disgusting behavior. But what could I have said?
Should I have accused her of being a racist? Of being rude? I am quite certain that she would have said she had some other reason for moving, and denied any wrongdoing. She had not said anything when she decided to switch seats, she just moved. There was nothing to ‘call her out on.’ Creating public confrontation is risky.
There seem to be layers of unseen, unspoken, and unbreakable protocols around causing a public scene. There is a thick wall of shame around all who would sacrifice the peace of a shared moment with strangers for the sake of making a stand politically. I have never seen anyone in an informal situation effectively address someone who has made a statement (physical or verbal) of homophobia, racism, misogyny, verbal abuse, or other cross-cultural bigotry. I have occasionally seen fierce polarity flare up that resulted in escalating the conflict. But mostly I have seen ‘bystanders’ say nothing at all.
Granted, there are personal stories in all directions that need telling. But these stories are not broachable in the 30-second window one has to address them on a moving train. The old woman on that train who changed seats has developed her world view through many threads of her life over decades. Media, religion, and political discourse have framed her inside an ideology and history that incident merely illustrates. Likewise, the complexity of the layers of reasoning behind the silence of the other people on the train is patterned into the depths of the invisible rules of social behavior. Respect for the elderly, not upsetting the silence of the train, not embarrassing the Muslim woman, not inciting a group conflict in the event that others in the shared space take sides—there are thick blocks everywhere, and no authorization for sidestepping them.
I have seen passengers on trains publicly scold other passengers for putting their feet on the seats. But when it comes to scolding for racism there is a veil of silence. How can the spell be broken?
In the flash of public exchange on a train, there was not time to truly meet this complexity. But, perhaps time is not what is actually needed. With more time it is possible that the situation could be analyzed and dissected from several directions. While that process may be informative, the double bind remains. The task here is to find a way, in relatively little time, to take the interaction up a level. Above the density of the interwoven reasons for not addressing the wrongness in our public sphere is another realm, where the way we approach the situation is free of these shackles. The task is to normalize the interaction in which busting someone for bigotry in public is as expected as it would be for any other form of public destruction.
I don’t want to live in a world where people are horrible. I don’t want to contribute in any way to that horror. As it is, just by living my life I am enmeshed in the web of capitalistic exploitation that ties to countless crimes against humanity and nature. Even my phone is a testament to my ability to overlook the hideous labor practices, international trade injustices, rare earth depletion, and advertising propaganda… I am far from innocent in this world of violent inequity. Let me be quite clear that the hubris of colonization, and all that the industrial world has wrought on the globe, is visible in my living room. In that sense I am not a better person than the old woman on the train. In a sense, I have no right to say anything at all. Simultaneously I have every responsibility to do everything I possibly can to address and heal the pain that history has left for us.
I know that saying nothing is not an option. What future lies in that direction? I did not know what to say to the old woman and feel the need to practice an approach that I have never seen. I am running scripts through my mind today of all the things I could have said. Because to do nothing is so deeply wrong. Next time I want to know what to do. On the train, at the store, in the bar, with my family and friends—no more of these little transgressions that suggest the normality of disrespect can be brushed over. There is no room for discretely condoning these moments with hesitation.
How shall we break through the hidden veils that silence the witnesses? Sadly, I believe that in the coming months and years there will only be more situations like the one I witnessed on the train. Societies are dividing. Europe, Canada, and the US are all sprouting right-wing groups.
If the old woman had dropped her wallet I would not have hesitated to break the silence. I might have said, “Excuse me, you dropped your wallet.” And given it back to her. If I had seen a pickpocket pulling cash out of her purse I would not have hesitated to defend her. If she had asked me for directions or assistance with her bags I would have gladly offered. In the same spirit, should I have said, “Excuse me, you dropped your human decency.”
But that would have been sassy. And it would have created a scene. I did not want to respond in anger.
On the other ha
nd, what she did also created a scene, non-verbally.
The scriptable interactions for what to do in this situation are filled with traps. For that reason, it’s important to have this conversation with our children, our parents, our professional colleagues and our friends. Break the spell.
Tolerance of intolerance is not going to do much good. And, direct polarization with polarized groups will increase the dividing rhetoric. Shaming the old woman probably would have increased her conviction that her world is threatened by foreigners. The privilege she presumed she had was evident in her obvious expectation that she could behave in that way and NOT be scolded.
Perhaps I should have gone and sat down with her and tried to describe the pain her actions unleashed into the world. I could have explained the consequences of consequences that future generations will have to live in from little gestures of hate like hers. I might tell her that by shunning the Muslim woman she has contributed to the next generation’s aggressiveness. I might also tell her that by behaving that way in public she brought all of us on the train into this story. Perhaps she does not have the right to privacy after doing something like that in a public space.
Racism and bigotry are not opinions that preferred groups can be granted authorization to have. Choosing not to sit next to a Muslim woman is not like choosing not to eat meat, or choosing one flavor of economic development over another. Anyone who believes that the lives of one group of people are worth less than another brings danger and destruction to their community. They are not a joke, or sometimes ok, or dismissible because the woman was old… When uncle so and so says something derogatory at a family gathering about the refugees, or immigrants, or women or… he has effectively crawled onto the dining table of the family history and defecated on it. But more often than not those comments slide by. Each time they grow a little more ugly.