How Covenants Make Us
David
Brooks APRIL 5, 2016
When
you think about it, there are four big forces coursing through modern
societies. Global migration is leading to demographic diversity. Economic
globalization is creating wider opportunity but also inequality. The Internet
is giving people more choices over what to buy and pay attention to. A culture
of autonomy valorizes individual choice and self-determination.
All of
these forces have liberated the individual, or at least well-educated
individuals, but they have been bad for national cohesion and the social
fabric. Income inequality challenges economic cohesion as the classes divide.
Demographic diversity challenges cultural cohesion as different ethnic groups
rub against one another. The emphasis on individual choice challenges community
cohesion and settled social bonds.
The
weakening of the social fabric has created a range of problems. Alienated young
men join ISIS so they can have a sense of belonging. Isolated teenagers shoot
up schools. Many people grow up in fragmented, disorganized neighborhoods.
Political polarization grows because people often don’t interact with those on
the other side. Racial animosity stubbornly persists.
Odder
still, people are often plagued by a sense of powerlessness, a loss of
efficacy. The liberation of the individual was supposed to lead to mass
empowerment. But it turns out that people can effectively pursue their goals
only when they know who they are — when they have firm identities.
Strong
identities can come only when people are embedded in a rich social fabric. They
can come only when we have defined social roles — father, plumber, Little
League coach. They can come only when we are seen and admired by our neighbors
and loved ones in a certain way. As Ralph Waldo Emerson put it, “Other men are
lenses through which we read our own minds.”
You
take away a rich social fabric and what you are left with is people who are
uncertain about who they really are. It’s hard to live daringly when your very
foundation is fluid and at risk.
We’re
not going to roll back the four big forces coursing through modern societies,
so the question is how to reweave the social fabric in the face of them. In a
globalizing, diversifying world, how do we preserve individual freedom while
strengthening social solidarity?
In her
new book “Commonwealth and Covenant,” Marcia Pally of
N.Y.U. and Fordham offers a clarifying concept. What we want, she suggests, is
“separability amid situatedness.” We want to go off and create and explore and
experiment with new ways of thinking and living. But we also want to be
situated — embedded in loving families and enveloping communities, thriving
within a healthy cultural infrastructure that provides us with values and
goals.
Creating
situatedness requires a different way of thinking. When we go out and do a
deal, we make a contract. When we are situated within something it is because
we have made a covenant. A contract protects interests, Pally notes, but a
covenant protects relationships. A covenant exists between people who
understand they are part of one another. It involves a vow to serve the
relationship that is sealed by love: Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I
will stay. Your people shall be my people.
People
in a contract provide one another services, but people in a covenant delight in
offering gifts. Out of love of country, soldiers offer the gift of their
service. Out of love of their craft, teachers offer students the gift of their
attention.
The
social fabric is thus rewoven in a romantic frame of mind. During another
period of national fragmentation, Abraham Lincoln aroused a refreshed love of
country. He played upon the mystic chords of memory and used the Declaration of Independence as a
unifying scripture and guide.
These
days the social fabric will be repaired by hundreds of millions of people
making local covenants — widening their circles of attachment across income,
social and racial divides. But it will probably also require leaders drawing
upon American history to revive patriotism. They’ll tell a story that includes
the old themes. That we’re a universal nation, the guarantor of stability and
world order. But it will transcend the old narrative and offer an updated love
of America.
In an
interview with Bill Maher last month, Senator Cory Booker nicely defined
patriotism by contrasting it with mere tolerance. Tolerance, he
said, means, “I’m going to stomach your right to be different, but
if you disappear off the face of the earth I’m no worse off.” Patriotism, on
the other hand, means “love of country, which necessitates love of each other,
that we have to be a nation that aspires for love, which recognizes that you
have worth and dignity and I need you. You are part of my whole, part of the
promise of this country.”
That emotion
is what it means to be situated in a shared national life.
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