Convocation Address
Artisans of Hope, Artisans of Wonder

Dr. Sharon D. Welch
Professor of Religious Studies, Women's Studies and Multicultural Education
University of Missouri - Columbia

I have a series of questions to pose today, real questions to which I do not know the answers. I expect, however, that many of you do know the answers and I am eager to explore with you your ideas and responses to these ethical, political, spiritual and aesthetic conundrums.

Shortly after the November elections a group of activists from the Kerry campaign, Moveon.org and other progressive organizations met with artists at Moby's farm outside New York city. These young people were exploring what had worked during the presidential campaign: young people voting in record numbers, for example, and what had not worked. There was a clear consensus that one of the major problems, not the only one of course, within the Kerry campaign was the lack of powerful rhetoric that communicated the depth, passion and moral clarity and coherence of democratic policies. It is easy to despair over the pressures of a sound bite society - how can profound, complex, real ideas be communicated in slogans and three word phrases? The intellectual critique of metaphorical thinking has a venerable pedigree. Even Plato spoke of "the long quarrel between philosophy and poetry," adding to that quarrel his own denunciation of the epistemological and ethical deceptions of poetics. For metaphors can be misleading - simplifying and distorting thought - yet metaphors can also open thought, can crystallize insights and visions, can function as complex symbols, rather than as one-dimensional signs. I have heard the following quote attributed to Hubert Humphrey, but Google and I have not been able to verify it - if you know the source, please let me know. The quote: "We campaign in poetry and govern in prose."

These activists and artists agreed on the need for compelling political poetry and metaphors. MTV's Vote or Die campaign was quite successful, ironically and defiantly playing on a host of fears, from environmental collapse to the reinstatement of the draft. The group was evenly divided, however, on what sort of metaphors to use, and what type of rhetoric. Half argued for fighting fire with fire - sharpening and amplifying the polarities that currently exist, and expressing powerfully the fear, anger, and outrage that many of us have in our current economic and political climate. The other half of the people are committed to the exploration of other forms of rhetoric - metaphors that not only bridge seemingly intractable polarities, but metaphors that build on hope, not fear, that evoke responsibility, irony, wonder and imagination, not exclusion and self-righteous resolve.

While not attending this meeting in New York, I have been involved in subsequent meetings in which we explore the latter challenges in regard to alternatives to militarism. In these efforts, we have encountered several deeply puzzling conundrums, and here it is that I, that we, need your help and insight.

The first conundrum: we know that metaphors are powerful, that they can stop thought as much as elicit it. How, then,  do we counter vivid metaphors that elicit thought-stopping prejudice? For example, you may recall the nomination by President Clinton of Lani Guinier in 1993 to be the first black woman to head the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice. Guinier had written articles examining alternative means of structuring voting to make the process more genuinely democratic than our winner-take-all system. Rather than a careful consideration of these positions, Guinier was characterized as "a quota queen," and serious debate was derailed.

To counter such metaphors, it is important to recognize their power. Karen McCarthy Brown, scholar of Haitian Vodou, described the characterization of Lani Guineier as a quota queen as a form of word wanga, an incantation of deep-seated stereotypes and fears. The current use of the term "axis of evil" offers a similar constellation of prejudice, clarity and seeming security in the face of complex and manifold dangers.

Linguist George Lakoff has described the ways in which some religious and political conservatives in the United States have created a political and moral vocabulary that is concise, internally consistent, and easily replicated in sound bites and short phrases. Lakoff does not address the ways in which this rhetoric masks the internal complexity of conservatism, a topic well worthy examining, nor the ways it stifles debate among conservatives.  His focus is on the divisions between this particular variant of conservative thought and contemporary liberalism. Lakoff contrasts what he calls Strict Father morality and politics with Nurturant parent morality and politics. The gender specificity in the former is intentional. The Strict Father morality is a consistent world view in which authority is clearly delineated - patriarchal in ideal, if not always in fact, a world in which legitimate authority provides protection and guidance in the face of a dangerous world. Competition and self-reliance are the mainstays of individual and social achievement. And, in this dangerous world, there are real enemies - and whether those enemies are other nations or democratic opponents, the task of the righteous is to defeat enemies, not to compromise with them, negotiate with them, much less learn from them.

It is very difficult to challenge this metaphorical universe directly. Its well documented failings (children from authoritarian homes are more likely to be aggressive, and needing external controls; internationally, an aggressive war on terror that violates human rights, has increased hostility and international instability) are taken by the adherents of this world view as the signs of the recalcitrance of human nature and the need for more force and control, not less.

Let me give one example of the effects of this rhetoric in preventing serious discussion. Do you recall Tony Blair's outrage after the first exposure of torture at Abu Ghraib - "We went to Iraq to stop that sort of thing, not to do it ourselves!" This outrage has too quickly been eroded by a displacement of responsibility on what are seen as a few ill-trained and misguided soldiers, and the policy decisions by government officials that not only allowed but fostered such abuse have yet to be thoroughly and independently investigated. What has led to this erosion of concern?

Social psychologists have described how easy it is for moral clarity and absolutism to lead to cruelty and violence. Albert Bandura describes five steps of moral disengagement - how genuinely decent human beings commit and justify behaviors that they would otherwise recognize as morally abhorrent. The first step is being convinced that one is the bearer of a just cause. The second stage is avoiding the negative consequences of one's behavior through the use of euphemistic language - for example, the term collateral damage for the death and injuries caused to civilians; the terms professional interrogation techniques, or softening up prisoners for interrogation, for physical and psychological torture. Third, when the severity of the consequences can no longer be avoided, one dehumanizes and/or demonizes the victim: they are all terrorists; or, they all share an irrational  hatred of us. The fourth step is disadvantageous comparison - our violence pales in comparison to theirs. Recall Alberto Gonzales' response when challenged by Senator Lindsay Graham to decisively condemn the use of torture by U.S. personnel: "But they beheaded Daniel Pearl!" The fifth step is a diffusion of responsibility - one was only following orders, or acting as can only be expected in "the chaos and fog of war."

These processes of moral disengagement are pervasive, and extremely hard to dislodge once in place. A first question, then,  how do we find a way of bringing effective internal critique to such a morally coherent and self-justifying worldview? We can easily craft arguments exposing this logic that we find persuasive. That is not the problem. How do we find the logic, the examples, the stories that can engage others in self-critical reflection, affirming, and not denying their capacities as moral agents?

The second conundrum. How do we find metaphors that speak to our hopes and joys - metaphors that simultaneously celebrate our wonder at the blessings of life and the gift of belonging to a larger whole - a community of people who live for justice and well-being for all? We have in the past found metaphors that, although partial, were evocative: sisterhood is powerful, workers of the world, unite, you have nothing to lose but your chains, a dream deferred is a dream denied, let justice roll like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.

What can be our appeals in the present,  not just to sisterhood and to workers, but to all humanity for justice, and for nurtured dreams? How do we metaphorically combine acknowledgment of the particularity of identities and community in a larger whole - a common good which genuinely sees and values the unique histories, needs, cultures of different social groups?

In his study of identity based conflicts in South Africa, Eastern Europe and Canada, Vern Redekop points to what is essential for healing and reconciliation - ways of framing collective and individual identity that provides a deep sense of the past - incorporating "memory, story and coherence", and an equally evocative sense of the future - rich with "imagination, stimulation and continuity." The problem, however, is that such stories are often self-righteous and self-justifying narratives of exclusion, framing the past and the future in terms of "us against them" - either innocent victims bravely resisting a demonic foe, or beneficent victors, the proud bearers of all humanity's destiny. How do we convey other stories, ones of  blessing and abundance, vitality and honest self-critique?

This is a complex task, to be sure, but in conclusion I leave you with a metaphor - let us be artisans, artisans of hope, artisans of wonder -working with the clay of human longing, of our capacities for greed and indifference, for exclusion and fear, as well as our capacities for generosity, courage, forgiveness and resilience - crafting  together flourishing communities of honesty, inclusion, self-critique and hope.

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