caring

Building a Sangha Is a Team Effort

By Nguyen Duy Vinh When we receive the Mindfulness Trainings and vow to take refuge in the Three Jewels, we commit to take care of ourselves and bring joy and happiness to others. The precepts constitute our ideals and the basis of our mindfulness practice. Taking refuge in the Three Jewels-the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha-we know that these commitments cannot be accomplished without a good teacher, a true teaching, and supportive friends-a Sangha. The Sangha is essential, for without it, our practice will slowly fade away. Thay has compared nuns and monks who leave their Sangha to tigers that abandon the forest and are soon caught by hunters. Without a Sangha, lay practitioners too will be caught by the traps of our environment and our habit energy. But, building and maintaining a Sangha can be challenging. To succeed, you need committed people and, in the long run, companionship, camaraderie, and solidarity.

mb24-Building1

Throughout the years, I have had many memorable encounters with the members of our Sangha, which strengthened our relationships. In November 1997, several brothers and sisters from Ottawa and Montreal traveled to Vermont to meet Thay and attend the inauguration ceremony of Green Mountain Dharma Center. Before we left Ottawa, we listened carefully to weather forecasts of snow and wind, but it didn't sound too bad. By the time we were out of Montreal, however, a blizzard had started and driving became very difficult. It took a tiring five-and-a-half hours to reach Woodstock, Vermont, normally a two hour trip. When we arrived, we discovered that Thay's talk had been canceled due to the storm. Fortunately, we had a cellular phone and called for directions to Green Mountain Dharma Center. But, driving up the steep, slippery road, we were forced to abandon our cars and walk. After 45 minutes, we were lost and exhausted. We phoned again, and learned we were almost there. Ten minutes later, we saw a huge barn with light inside. We aITived very late and tired, but joyful. We also found that through our hardship, our solidarity and friendship was strengthened.

Small things can serve to bind us together as well. I recall when our sister Brenda Carr invited the Sangha to a formal recitation of the Five Mindfulness Trainings at her home. After a very difficult childbirth, Brenda had been ill for some time. That evening, I was particularly moved to see Brenda put on her brown Order of Interbeing coat for the first time. (The coat was a kind gift from the Toronto Vietnamese Sangha.) The recitation that night was vibrant with sincelity and commitment. And we eleven practitioners were honored by Andre and Brenda's beautiful six-month-old daughter, Karuna.

I recall also the sorrow our Sangha experienced late last December, when our sister Annette Pypops passed away after two years of fierce struggle against breast cancer. Strengthened by Montreal's Maple Village Sangha, we organized a chanting and prayer ceremony for Annette, answering the wish she expressed before she died.

All these moments of joy, hardship, and sadness bring us together, allow us to know each other a bit more, and enhance the solidarity and friendship within the Sangha. The Buddha himself taught that such friendship and solidarity is very important. Once, the Buddha found a sick monk, who was left alone while the other monks went on almsrounds. After caring for the unwell monk, the Buddha instructed the returning monks: "Friends, if we do not look after each other, who will look after us? When you look after each other, you are looking after the Tathagata."

In applying the Buddha's teaching to Sangha building, we often find our primary difficulty in enhancing Sangha relationships is tied to how each of us organizes his or her own life. We are busy with professional and family life. Most of us spend eight to ten hours a day working to earn our bread and butter. In current Western society, it is not easy to work part-time, unless we have a liberal profession or our needs allow us to live simply. The struggle is even more difficult when we have a family to support, especially with young adults of university age. But, we must fmd time to take care of our Sangha friends who are in difficult moments- illness, accident, lost of beloved ones, job loss, etc. A Sangha's success depends on its members sharing time, energy, and material resources with each other. The well-being of our Sangha affects our own well-being and vice-versa.

Dharma teacher Nguyen Duy Vinh, True Awakening (Chan Ngo), practices with the Ottawa Sangha in Ottawa, Ontario and with Maple Village in Quebec.

mb24-Building2

PDF of this article

Without Blame or Judgment

Reflections on Engaged Practice in the Holy Land By Mitchell Ratner

mb35-Without1

We did walking meditation together, each of us silently breathing and stepping, opening ourselves to the moment. We formed a circle and chanted together, giving homage to Avalokitesvara, the bodhisattva who hears and responds to the suffering of the world. All of us had walked and chanted before, but this time the atmosphere was noticeably different—our walking trail was the approach to the Israeli military checkpoint that separates the Palestinian authority-controlled city of Nablus from the rest of the West Bank.

This checkpoint is often in the news. Many West Bank Palestinians need to cross it each day, to work, study, do business, or seek medical treatment. Journalists and foreign observers have substantiated Palestinian claims of needlessly long waits and degrading treatment by the guards. We had come to the checkpoint to offer a healing presence.

There were about twenty of us at the checkpoint that day in June of 2003. Eleven of us had come from outside Israel, including four Plum Village monastics, three lay Dharma teachers, and several Order of Interbeing members. We had come to Israel to share the practice of mindfulness and to open ourselves to the suffering, resilience, and wisdom that is present in Israel and the West Bank.

The international program began with a five-day mindfulness retreat at Givat Haviva, a kibbutz education center in the rural heartland of Israel. The international community joined with 50 Israelis to develop our practice of mindfulness. During the Dharma talks we talked about the Buddhist understanding of suffering and the overcoming of suffering. In Dharma discussion groups and private sharings, we talked about the particular suffering that Israelis felt, especially the daily fear that some unforeseen incident will bring great harm to them or their families, and the larger, overhanging sense of despair, that the situation will not improve.

mb35-Without2

Three themes emerged for me during the Givat Haviva retreat that helped me frame what I saw, heard, and experienced in Israel.

The first theme was about blame. With mindfulness we can develop the capacity to relate to ourselves and others without blame. As Thay Phap An noted in one of the Dharma talks, “Looking deeply is to be truly present, without blame or judgment.” In the context of Israel, the words resounded. Almost every public or private discussion of the Jewish-Arab conflict focuses on attributing blame. Each side justifies the suffering they have caused in terms of the suffering they have received. The suffering is not abstract or distant; almost everyone in Israel and the West Bank has a relative, friend, or acquaintance who has been killed or wounded.

The second theme was about the importance of our daily practice, of working with our own suffering. Sister Gina shared with the community how important it was for her to be able to take care of her own anger, fear, and defensiveness:

“I really have to practice. Only if I can do it, can I expect others to do it. If I cannot do it my daily life, there’s no hope. . . I would sink into despair for myself and for the world.”

This focus on the connection between our inner lives and the conditions we wish to see in the world is a special gift that mindfulness practice offers the peace movement.

mb35-Without3

The final, third theme was about the power of history, our own history and that of our community. At Givat Haviva most of the participants were Jewish and many of the discussions led back to the Holocaust. The question was often raised in terms of whether Israeli Jews, as individuals and as a community, had worked through the Holocaust—whether that unimaginably searing and painful experience had been fully processed so that it no longer clouded understanding of the current reality.

mb35-Without2

After Givat Haviva, the international participants, along with some of our Israeli hosts, spent a long day in the West Bank. In the morning we visited activists from a Palestinian village that will be cut off from its agricultural land by the new Israeli “security wall.” In the afternoon the residents of a small Palestinian community, near Nablus, offered us mint tea and told us about the struggles of their daily life, including attacks and harassment from an Israeli-Jewish settler community that has established outposts on the hills over their village, the general economic and social instability arising from the Israeli control of the West Bank, and the daily difficulties caused by the many blocked roads and Israeli checkpoints—what was a fifteen minute drive to Nablus had become at least a two-hour ordeal, and some days it was not possible to go there at all.

Following our stop at the Nablus checkpoint, we returned to Israel, and arrived late at night at Neve Shalom/Wahat alSalam (Oasis of Peace), an intentional community founded in the 1970s by a Dominican priest in the foothills between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. For more than twenty-five years Israeli Jews have lived as neighbors with Palestinian Arabs and Christians. Together they have created an international peace center, a bilingual/bi-national elementary school, and a retreat program that brings together Israeli Arab and Israeli Jewish high school students. A bumper sticker they make and distribute reads simply, in Hebrew and Arabic, “Peace Is Possible.”

Our next stop was Jerusalem, where we stayed for several nights with host families and together visited historical and spiritual sites, such as the Church of the Sepulcher (built on the site of Jesus’s crucifixion) and the Western or Wailing Wall (the last remnant of the second temple). One morning we visited the Holocaust Museum, Yad Vashem—a harrowingly effective presentation of what it meant, life by life, for six million people, one and a half million of them children, to have died, only because they were Jewish. Afterwards, we did walking meditation together in the hall of memory, holding each other’s hands, calming ourselves, struggling to simply breathe and remain open: not to close to the suffering, not to be overwhelmed by it.

mb35-Without2

An hour later we had lunch at the Jerusalem office of Action Reconciliation Service for Peace, a remarkable German non-governmental organization started in the 1950s by Protestant theologians. The organization’s founding principle was that when a great harm has been committed, there must be atonement before there can be reconciliation.

We Germans began World War II and for this reason alone, more than others, we are guilty for bringing immeasurable suffering to humankind. Germans have murdered millions of Jews in an outrageous rebellion against God. Those of us who did not want this annihilation did not do enough to prevent it. For this reason, we are still not at peace. There has not been true reconciliation. ...

We are requesting all peoples who suffered violence at our hands to allow us to perform good deeds in their countries, ... to carry out this symbol of reconciliation.

As Sabine Lohmann, the Jerusalem office’s director explained, more than thirty-five years after that statement, young Germans still come each year to Israel, and to similar offices in eleven other countries. In Israel they learn Hebrew, provide personal care to Holocaust survivors, and work in special education classes and with people with disabilities—classes of people especially affected by Nazi policy.

The still vivid images from the Holocaust museum, coming together with the German organizations efforts to reach to the roots of reconciliation, encouraged us, right there in the organization’s meeting room, to have an intense and cathartic sharing about World War II, Jews, Germans, cruelty, guilt, blame, and atonement. Thay Phap Minh, a Plum Village monk, born and raised in Israel, reminded us that demonizing almost always accompanies blaming. We separate ourselves by highlighting certain characteristics and ignoring others. For him, it was important to remember that “the dark side of the Nazi is within me and there’s great love in the heart of a Nazi.”

mb35-Without2

After several more events in Jerusalem, we headed north to Nazareth. While the retreat at Givat Haviva followed closely the structure of a standard mindfulness retreat, the events in Nazareth also included exchanges between the Israeli mindfulness community and other groups working for peace and reconciliation between Jews and Arabs.

During the days preceding the public events in Nazareth, the international group and Israeli organizers met with two extraordinary Arab groups. Memory for Peace was started in Nazareth by Father Shoufani, an Arab Greek Catholic Prelate. He brought together Christian Arabs and Islamic Arabs who felt that there was no place in the public dialogue for the positions they held in their hearts. Nazir Mgally, a journalist, shared with us:

We are Palestinian people. We are also part of the Israeli state. We suffer with the people in the West Bank. We suffer with the Israelis. We said we were the bridge, and we didn’t do it. . . . I felt the best way to stop the bloodshed was to return to our roots as human beings. I felt I needed to understand his [the Jewish persons] suffering. Maybe he will understand our suffering.

The Memory for Peace group began by studying Jewish history together, and, after some time, they invited Israeli Jews to study with them. Just weeks before we met with six members of this group, they had traveled together to Auschwitz, 150 Arab-Israelis and 150 Jewish-Israelis.

A Nazareth building contractor explained why, as an Arab, he went to Auschwitz:

We are living here together and recent events have hurt us. We’ve seen the Jewish people close down and distance themselves. We wanted to see the roots; wanted to go to the place of greatest disaster. Today we know the main problems of the Jews. The Jewish people have fear. They have always been chased. We want to support them. Our aim is holy. With all our might we want to bring together the people who are living here.

The next day we met with a small delegation led by Sheikh Abd Elsalem H. Manasra, the head of the Salam Qaderite Sufi Order in Jerusalem and the Holy Land. He explained that while Sufis are Muslim, their tradition differs from many other Islamic traditions in that they try to penetrate into the texts, rather than interpret them from above. In Arabic, the words “Islam”, “peace”, “surrender”, and “wholeness”, all have the same linguistic root. The Sheikh’s spiritual vision was open and embracing:

I’m speaking as a human being, as an Arab, and as the Muslim. I begin with human being. This is what I share with you. Everything else is less.

Sufis say they have the truth, but not the whole truth. Others have a truth as well.

The holy man gives peace to the earth. We should break down the borders in order to reach the man.

There are only two commandments: love of God and love of man. This is enough for a universal religion.

The holy land can include all the Palestinians and all the Jews, if we love.

Before leaving, the sheik taught us to rhythmically chant, in the Sufi style, the name Allah, the pronoun of God. We stood and joined together our voices and spirits: Buddhists, Jews, Christians, and Muslims, holding a sacred space together.

The retreat program in Nazareth, at the St. Gabriel’s Hotel, included elements from a standard mindfulness retreat, such as Dharma talks, sittings, and walking meditation, along with several public events. On Friday night, two hundred people sat in the church of St. Gabriel to listen to representatives from eight groups talk about their experiences working for reconciliation and peace. On Saturday afternoon, the retreat ended with a silent peace walk through Nazareth, to Mary’s well, in the heart of the city.

mb35-Without4

Often during the weekend, around meals and odd moments, Israeli Arabs, Israeli Jews, and members of the international community shared personal stories and reflections. In Hebrew, Arabic, and English, sometimes all three languages at once, people talked about their roots, their desire for peace, and their frustration with the distrust and fear that separated communities. Afterwards, both Israeli Arabs and Israeli Jews mentioned that this casual sharing from the heart, across customary boundaries, which had happened in Nazareth, was rare even at peace and reconciliation events.

mb35-Without2

Several days after the retreat, on my last full day in Israel, I sat with a Jewish Israeli friend talking about what I had seen and learned. I struggled to pull the parts together. When I talked about the spiritual lessons I had learned while in Israel, my comments centered on all that we gain when we let go of blaming. I felt I had gained insight into what Thay Phap An had said, that “Looking deeply is to be truly present, without blame or judgment.” When we blame we distort. When we blame we highlight an individual’s or group’s actions, we ignore the context, and we ignore the contributions we or others may have made to the situation. When blame is in my heart, the other person naturally becomes defensive. Communication breaks down. Authentic dialogue and reconciliation cannot occur.

And yet, a few minutes later, when I talked about the reality of daily life I had observed in Israel and the West Bank, I dwelled on the defects of Jewish Israeli society. In me were feelings of disappointment and anger. The distrust and institutional racism was more extensive than I had imagined. I asked my friend, “Of all people, after the experience of the Holocaust, how could Jewish people be so intolerant of Arab Israelis and Palestinians in the West Bank? How could they be insensitive to their pain?”

mb35-Without5

For several hours we talked, working our way down to the roots of the incompatibility between what I was feeling and saying about Jewish Israeli society and my increased understanding of the corrosive effects of blaming. I shared with my friend that the trip had made me aware of how often blame crept into my thinking and speaking. To use words such as racism and intolerance almost automatically steers a conversation toward blaming. Often, however, it is much more subtle--spontaneous remarks directed at loved ones, and seemingly objective discussion of social issues which slip into blame. (How could you/they do that?)

Why was it so hard for me to let go of blame? For the next two months I pondered the question and talked about it with friends. Finally the realization came that in my life, in an odd way, blaming was connected to caring. When it seemed that someone else’s actions were causing pain to me or to those I cared about, my response was to blame them. When I acted in ways that seemed to undermine the goals I had set for myself, I blamed myself. When people close to me acted in ways other than what I thought was in their best interest, I blamed them. That was how I was raised.

My strong reaction to what I saw as Jewish Israeli insensitivities came out of a deep caring. I did not want that community, which had suffered so much, to be destroyed again. I deeply wanted Israeli Jews to act in ways I believed would lead to a just and lasting peace. I saw that in my reactive blaming I underplayed how debilitating the historical wounds might be (Who was I to judge that enough time had past?), and I underplayed how many causes and conditions from outside the Israeli-Jewish community contributed to what I perceived as Israeli-Jewish insensitivity to the pain of others.

For me, the great challenge, in Israel and elsewhere, is to let go of the blame and not let go of the caring. Without blame, we can still work and hope for peace. Without blame, we can still bring attention to situations of injustice. We can even ask people to act in a different way, or, when necessary, forcibly prevent some persons from hurting others. Without blame, rather than closed and angry, our hearts are open and accepting.

Mitchell Ratner, True Mirror of Wisdom, is a Dharma teacher living in Takoma Park, Maryland and practicing with  the  Still  Water  Mindfulness  Practice  Center.

PDF of this article

A Sangha With Heart

mb51-ASangha1By Jim Scott-Behrends, Natascha Bruckner, Miriam Goldberg Three practitioners express — in very different voices — appreciation for the Heart Sangha in Santa Cruz, California.

The Beauty of Our Practice

In the cool of the evening, mindful steps cross the wooden deck. On the porch of the Zendo a sign invites Noble Silence. Every Monday evening members of the Heart Sangha gather at the Zen Center of Santa Cruz. Coming from a diversity of backgrounds we find our common thread in practice inspired by the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh.

Thich Nhat Hanh has referred to Sangha building as the most important activity we can participate in. The Heart Sangha has made this proposition a priority by sharing a commitment to a sustainable practice rooted in emancipation and joy. As in architecture Sangha building relies on a strong foundation. We find this foundation in the Mindfulness Trainings and the basic principles of wisdom and compassion in our tradition.

According to Thay, “[t]he main purpose of a Sangha is to practice and support mindfulness, openness, and love. Organize in a way that is most enjoyable for everyone. You will never find a perfect Sangha. An imperfect Sangha is good enough. Rather than complaining too much about your Sangha, do your best to transform yourself into a good element of the Sangha. Accept the Sangha and build on it.”

The beauty of our practice is the generosity of spirit that is evident each time we meet. We are a family with a common purpose. With warmth, love and humor we pursue the way of awakening.

A recent experience in my life reinforced my gratitude for the Sangha. Last year my mother was having a string of medical issues after eighty-nine years of good health. Each time I drove to Southern California to visit her, the Heart Sangha was with me. Holding my mother’s hand and feeling the progressive weakness of her energy, I could feel the strength of the Sangha supporting me. When I returned and sat with the Sangha, my sadness was alleviated when it was held in the larger vessel of the Sangha body. I did not need to hold it within myself. In sharing stories of my Mom and her life of service to others I could feel the warmth and care of the Sangha. The unspoken power of their deep listening provided a space of healing for me. When my Mom died in November my Sangha brothers and sisters offered their true presence.

mb51-ASangha2

Day by day, month by month, year by year we investigate and explore the breadth of our tradition. From the importance of mindfulness in our daily lives to our engagement in the wider world, we benefit from our Sangha practice. In the words of Thich Nhat Hanh, “Whether practicing together as a family, a Sangha, or a nation, we have so many opportunities to grow in our capacity to understand and to love. Each moment and each day is an opportunity to begin anew, to open the door of our hearts, and to practice together for our own transformation and healing and for the transformation and healing of our families and our world.” Practicing together in this way we are discovering the path of living peacefully in the present moment and living joyfully together.

— Jim Scott-Behrends, True Recollection of  Compassion

Reaching Out from the Heart Sangha

Our Sangha reminds me of an octopus.

An octopus has many arms and hands, like Avalokiteshvara, whose hands each hold a unique tool to relieve suffering. Each person in our Sangha is like an arm reaching out from the Sangha body, from the heart.

One person volunteers at the food bank; one advocates for immigrants; one raises money to help children in Gaza; one organizes a Sangha beach cleanup. There are several psychotherapists, a farmer, a doctor, a T’ai Ch’i teacher, a Hospice caregiver, a counselor for veterans.

We come together on Monday evenings to rest in the heart of our practice. The heart is the circle where we sit in silence together, the circle we walk with mindful steps, the circle of our arms in hugging meditation. Like blood that circulates back to the heart, we are nourished and energized when we return to our center circle every week.

Strengthened by our return to the Heart Sangha, we extend out into the world again, putting mindfulness and compassion into action, building Sangha in our greater community with acts of kindness and love.

— Natascha Bruckner, Benevolent Respect of the Heart

Branches and Roots

The Heart Sangha is a gentle, loving gathering of people who prefer guiding principles to set forms. We all value the Mindfulness Trainings, loving kindness, spaciousness, and the joy of practice.

Over many many months, I have learned that Sangha building has become a profound inner exploration of inclusion, a dynamic practice of my willingness to release the deep belief in my isolation into the acknowledgment of interbeing. It calls me to explore and heal that which is below the surface, close to the roots. If I find myself fearing isolation, exclusion, comparisons, competition, it calls me to hold myself present in mindfulness to discover what in me is so frightened ... and how to receive that part and hold it in the light of deep understanding.

When I open with tender vulnerability and let myself receive the love and wisdom from Sangha, not blindly, but with the clear eyes and open heart born of mindfulness practice, and see the essential light, beauty, Buddha mind in each one of us, I know that we are all cherished. The tree of Sangha develops stronger roots.

Each person’s strong individuality strengthens the love and also offers challenges and richness to our commitment to safeguard the unique perspectives of each person present, and hold everyone within the tenderness of deep sharing. We stretch and drop down to hold the tension of daring to listen and include each other even when our opinions differ. It is a very special environment, cultivated by all of our efforts to receive each person deeply, and allow each one’s gifts to nourish us all.

We are encouraged by those who naturally build Sangha through tending the lush branches of the tree, extending, stretching and waving to many, and by those whose natural gesture is to drop inward towards the root. Together, we nourish the whole. Together, we gather under the tree, and smile. And that smile fills the universe.

— Miriam Goldberg True Recollection of Joy

PDF of this article

Toward a Compassionate Economics

An Interview with Riane Eisler By John Malkin

mb55-Toward1Compassion is a deeply valued aspect of Buddhist practice. Caring for others is a natural expression of interbeing. How would our lives be different if compassion were a foundation of politics and economics? Riane Eisler explores the possibilities of a compassion-based economics in her latest book The Real Wealth of Nations: Creating a Caring Economics (Berret-Koehler Publishers, 2007). She writes, “Strange as it may sound, we can’t just focus on economics to change economic systems. We have to go deeper and further.” Eisler is pointing to a reacquaintance with compassion, a movement away from domination-based societies toward a partnership model.

mb55-Toward2

Eisler makes the point that “…the exclusion of caring and care-giving from mainstream economic theory and practice has had, and continues to have, terrible effects on people’s quality of life, on our natural life-support systems, and on our economic productivity, innovativeness, and adaptability to new circumstances.” Riane Eisler’s 1987 book The Chalice and the Blade draws on anthropological findings to reveal that human beings have lived in partnership societies where compassion has been highly valued. In The Real Wealth of Nations she addresses the question, “What kinds of social confi    support our enormous human capacities for caring, for problem-solving, for consciousness, for empathy and creativity—rather than for destructiveness, insensitivity, and violence?”

Thay has so often taught that all these seeds—from empathy to anger—are present in us and can be cultivated or diminished. Indeed, the Second Mindfulness Training focuses on the practice of not supporting exploitation, social injustice, or oppression in any of its forms. “I do think of my work as spiritual because I think of spirituality as putting love into action,” Eisler recently told me. “In that sense,” she said, “it does connect to the Buddhist philosophy of Thich Nhat Hanh.”

John Malkin: Tell me about the relationship of economics to common beliefs about human nature.

Riane Eisler: There is a popular notion that human nature is selfish. In domination systems, one of the biggest myths is that there is something wrong with us. Whether it’s original sin or the popular version of selfish genes, we’re bad. With that belief comes the belief that we need to be strictly controlled. That is one of the bases of domination.

Humans have a very large spectrum of possibilities. We can be cruel, violent, and insensitive. But we also have an enormous— indeed unprecedented as a species—capacity for consciousness, caring, and creativity. The issue that I’ve been probing is what kinds of social configurations support or inhibit the expression of these positive capacities. Unfortunately in domination systems, you’ve got rigid rankings (man over man, man over woman, race over race, religion over religion, man over nature).

JM: Economics is not easy to understand. It seems that much money is made from the exploitation of people and nature while caring professions are not well compensated.

RE: Economics is basically about what is or is not valued. Classical economists will say, “It’s just a matter of supply and demand.” What they ignore is that much more important are underlying cultural values which are unconsciously embedded. Like the devaluation of anything considered to be soft, caring, care-giving.

Just having “caring” and “economics” in the same sentence causes a lot of us to do a double take. It’s a terrible comment on the un-caring values that we have learned to accept as driving economic rules, practices, and policies. We need economic policies that give real value to the most important human work: caring for people and nature.

These life-sustaining activities aren’t counted in our measures of productivity, such as GDP (gross domestic product) and GNP (gross national product). Market economy professions that don’t involve caring and care-giving, like engineering and planning (they may be done by caring people but the work isn’t care-giving), are uniformly higher-paid than professions that are about care-giving, like child care and elementary school teaching.

In the U.S. we think nothing of paying the plumber—the person to whom we entrust our pipes—$50 to $100 an hour. But to the person to whom we entrust our children—the child care worker—we pay an average of less than ten dollars an hour with no benefits, according to U.S. Department of Labor statistics. This isn’t logical. It’s pathological.

JM: Some countries are developing economics that place a high value on caring.

RE: There are nations that have moved more to the partnership side, and they have more caring policies. Sweden, Finland, Norway. They were so poor at the beginning of the twentieth century that people fled famines in droves. But today they have the highest life spans and the lowest poverty rates. They invested in caring for people and caring for nature. It’s not that complicated. They have universal health care, as well as high-quality child care and early childhood education.

JM: In your book you write, “Policymakers always seem to find money for control and domination, for prisons, weapons, wars. But we’re told there’s no money for caring and care-giving. For feminine activities such as caring for children and people’s health. For nonviolence and peace.”

RE: Anything that is stereotypically considered feminine— associated with caring, care-giving, nonviolence—is devalued, whether it’s in a woman or in a man. That’s very important. Women can be cruel and men can be caring. How a society organizes the roles and relations of the two fundamental halves of humanity— female and male—doesn’t only impact our individual lives, but it affects everything about our social system, including economics. It makes our families either authoritarian or democratic.

We did a study at the Center for Partnership Studies comparing statistical data from eighty-nine nations that correlated the status of women with measures of quality of life like infant mortality, human rights, and environmental ratings. We found that the status of women can be a better predictor of the general quality of life than GDP.

We now have the enterprise of coming together and constructing a better future. It’s the most important work for us on the planet. If we don’t join together to change how we think and act, we just don’t have much of a future, and neither do our children.

Editors’ note: Sister Annabel, Senior Editor of the Mindfulness Bell, read this interview and offered an additional question for Riane Eisler.

Sister Annabel: While I was reading this article I felt there was something missing. It was the feeling that we should pay the caregiver more than the plumber. Why do we not pay everyone the same? The caregiver cares because that is how she expresses compassion, and the plumber can also plumb compassionately. What is wrong is that we continue to express value in money. I think this is something economists have to look at. In a humane society, everyone has the same material needs and everyone should receive the same amount of money.

RE: Thank you, Sister Annabel, for your question. I want to say, first, that what our work is about is not that one kind of profession be paid more than another, but that the work of caring for people and nature be given visibility and real value. This is essential for a more just and caring world, because as long as caring continues to be devalued, not only will the essential work of caring for children, the elderly, and others in need of care be given few if any rewards, but we cannot realistically expect more caring policies. So policy makers will continue to have no trouble finding funding for prisons, weapons, and wars, but won’t find money to fund health care, child care, and other “soft” caring activities. From my perspective the problem is not money, which is a useful invention for exchange, but that money is not allocated in humane and caring ways.

For more information about Riane Eisler and the Caring Economics Campaign, see www.partnershipway.org.

mb55-Toward3John Malkin, Clear Path of the Heart, lives in Santa Cruz, CA. Author of Sounds of Freedom and The Only Alternative: Christian Nonviolent Peacemakers in America, he hosts a radio program called “The Great Leap Forward” (www.freakradio.org) on Free Radio Santa Cruz. His guests have included Thich Nhat Hanh, Riane Eisler, Philip Glass, and Sister Chan Khong.

PDF of this article