The Power of our story
I first heard the report of the United States drone attack in Pakistan killing Afghan Taliban leader, Mullah Mohammad Mansour on Sunday when listening to the radio while driving to Gainesville for the Women in Blues Festival finale. Of course, I am very aware that we:
The United States feel entitled to enter the airspaces of other countries such as Pakistan.
Use drones to conduct violent missions.
Are convinced that we are justified in killing those we have determined are the enemy.
Can report such accomplishments without any apparent need to grieve the death of a human being.
The announcer on the radio who brought this news to me and all the other listeners heard his voice deliver the news without any apparent emotion or regret. One might think that at this point in my history of having heard and read many such unemotional reports I would not feel any kinship with Mr. Mansour. Yet, I felt something which seemed very much like profound grief. I think I was feeling grief for:
The violent death of this man, Mullah Mohammad Mansour, who was the son of his parents, and, I suspect, related to a great many other people. I too am a son, a father, a sibling, a cousin, a nephew, a friend, a student, and a neighbor.
The fact that I am a citizen of a country which condones not only the violent killing of others but the use such devices as drones which allows us greater emotional distance than a face-to-face killing. Distance makes it easier to think of the person or persons one is killing as objects.
The arrogance which allow us to determine that it is our right to enter another country in person or via impersonal means such as armed drones to kill.
Representatives of we, the citizens of the United States, have determined that we have the right to name someone as the enemy thus pushing aside his (or her) humanness or name something as a drone and infuse it with the power to kill. “The Drone killed. I did not kill another human being.” We also have the right, in the name of peace, to enter another country and kill “the enemy.”
Of course, I have long known that we humans have always used impersonal labels to dehumanize those we want to justify killing, put down, or otherwise harm– krauts , Japs, kooks, commies, “ni—ers,” enemy, insurgent, terrorist, woman, faggot, etc. I am not sure when we humans first posited that we could convince ourselves that we could sever the chord which connects us to all other life forms. Many so called primitive tribes knew that animals have a spirit and that the spirit of animals and the humans involved had a relationship. Thus, if one killed an animal one needed to give thanks to the spirit of the animal.
Susan Silverman, the author, talks about the moment in therapy when the death of her nine-month-old brother was named as a loss. The mere fact of naming it relieved her anxiety about loss enough to allow her to begin to sleep. She had thought that because she was so young when he died that his death could not have been connected to her profound anxiety about loved ones leaving. The therapist made her brother live before he died.
The writer and activist Eve Ensler who is most famous for her play The Vagina Monologues says:
“I believe in the power and mystery of naming things. Language has the capacity to transform our cells, rearrange our learned patterns of behavior and redirect our thinking. I believe in naming what's right in front of us because that is often what is most invisible.”
In the New Testament as used by the Christian Church, the apostle John tells us:
“1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome[a] it.”
Professsor Loren Graham in an article entitled The Power of names: In Culture and in Mathematics, posits:
“A common concept in history is that knowing the name of something or someone gives one power over that thing or person. This concept occurs in many different forms in numerous cultures—ancient and primitive tribes, Islam, and Judaism; and in Egyptian, Vedic, Hindu, and Christian traditions. Some writers find it embedded in the first verses of Genesis, written probably more than three thousand years ago; others believe it to be an intrinsic characteristic of classical Greek religion; still others find it a central feature in magic and folklore, and modern feminist writers often see it as the rea son a woman is traditionally asked to take the name of her new husband.”
Any student of cultures knows that it has been a common practice for male leaders to determine that women are property and, therefore, subject to the rule of males.
Once we name something or someone we can then attach it to an existing story we have learned or create a new story which validates the associations we already have with the name. If we already know the story of an individual there is no reason to try to get to know who that person is. Many have written about their experience of meeting someone formerly labeled as an enemy - that ni—er, that Jew, that Palestinian, that Muslim, that Christian, that criminal, that terrorist, that Jap, that woman, that faggot, that … - and then sitting down with them as Mary, Martha, John, Sid, Addel, and listening to the story of that person. They begin to exist as a person with their own story.
Andrew Stanton, filmmaker says that Fred Rogers of Mr. Rogers neighborhood carried in his wallet a quote from a social worker that said, “Frankly, there is not anyone you could not love once you have heard their story.”
Mr. Stanton in a Ted Talk, March 2012 The clues to a great story states:
“And the way I like to interpret that is probably the greatest story commandment, which is "Make me care" -- please, emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically, just make me care.”
Mr. Stanton goes on to say there are several characteristics of a story well told. Let me paraphrase them here, but I hope the reader will take the time to listen to Andrew Stanton’s Ted Talk. They are in my words:
The story makes a promise that his story will heard somewhere.
Makes the audience put things together – not what they already thought.
The character or chief character – in this case the storyteller has a spine – something that drives that person.
Makes the listener want to know what happens next and how it will end or conclude.
Has a theme.
Invokes wonder
In has been said that we are our story. If we think we already know our story or the story of another person there is no us because it is not your story but the story I am imposing on you. As soon as I label or name something or someone I have often decided I know all there is to know of their or its story. Empathy with the real person – the real story – is now impossible because the label or name tells me everything I need to know.
The United States often tells itself – we tell ourselves, “We are American. We are peaceful. We know best. Our needs are more important. Without us to name you there is no you. You do not have a story. You have no promise, no story to put together, no spine, no surprise, no them and no wonder. We are America – not one of the American states – but we are America.”
If Mullah Mohammad Mansour is merely a bad person, a terrorist it is easy to kill him. If someone is a criminal they do not have a story. I know all I need to know. If someone is a republican, a democrat, an independent I need know no more.
Without a story there can be no you or me. Without a story there can be no empathy. With empathy there can be no tribe.
I will tell you who I am. There is a huge difference between you labeling someone as a “woman” and she labeling herself as, “I AM A WOMAN.”
Written May 24, 2016
From: Jimmy Pickett [mailto:pickettjf@gmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, May 24, 2016 4:45 PM
To: Becky and Bob Johnen
Subject: blog draft
Empathy, naming and story
I first heard the report of the United States drone attack in Pakistan killing of Afghan Taliban leader, Mullah Mohammad Mansour on Sunday when listening to the radio while driving to Gainesville for the Women in Blues Festival finale. Of course, I am very aware that:
We, the United States, feels entitled to enter the airspaces of other countries such as Pakistan.
Use drones to conduct violent missions.
Are convinced that we are justified in killing those we have determined are the enemy.
Can report such accomplishments without any apparent need to grieve the death of a human being.
The announcer on the radio who brought his news to me and all the other listeners to his voice delivered the news without any apparent emotion or regret. One might think that at this point in my history of having heard and read many such unemotional reports I would not feel any kinship with Mr. Mansour. Yet, I felt something which seemed very much like profound grief. I think I was feeling grief for:
The violent death of this man, Mullah Mohammad Mansour, who was the son of his parents, and, I suspect, related to a great many other people. I too am a son, a father, a sibling, a cousin, a nephew, a friend, a student, and a neighbor.
The fact that I am a citizen of a country which condones not only the violent killing of others but the use such devices as drones which allows us greater emotional distance than a face-to-face killing. Distance makes it easier to think of the person or persons one is killing as objects
The arrogance which allow us to determine that it is our right to enter another country in person or via impersonal means such as armed drones to kill.
Representatives of we, the citizens of the United States, have determined that we have the right to name someone as the enemy thus pushing aside his (or her) humanness. name something as a drone and infuse it with the power to kill. “The Drone killed. I did not kill another human being.” We also have the right, in the name of peace, to enter another country and kill “the enemy”.
Of course, I have long known that we humans have always used impersonal labels to dehumanize the those we want to justify killing or otherwise harm– krauts , Japs, kooks, commies, “ni—ers”, enemy, insurgent, terrorist, woman, faggot, etc. I am not sure when we humans first posited that we could convince ourselves that we could sever the chord which connects us to all other life forms. Many so called primitive tribes knew that animals have a spirit and that the spirit of animals and the humans involved had a relationship. Thus, if one killed an animal one needed to give thanks to the spirit of the animal. .
Susan Silverman, the author, talks about the moment in therapy when the death of her 9 month old brother was named as a loss. The mere fact of naming it relieved her anxiety about loss enough to allow her to begin to sleep. She had thought that because she was so young when he died that his death could not have been connected to her profound anxiety about loved ones leaving. The therapist made her brother live before he died.
The writer and activist Eve Ensler who is most famous for her play The Vagina Monologues says:
I believe in the power and mystery of naming things. Language has the capacity to transform our cells, rearrange our learned patterns of behavior and redirect our thinking. I believe in naming what's right in front of us because that is often what is most invisible.
In the New Testament as used by the Christian Church, the apostle John tells us:
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome[a] it.
Professsor Loren Graham in an article entitled The Power of names: In Culture and in Mathematics, posits:
“A common concept in history is that knowing the name of something or someone gives one power over that thing or person. This concept occurs in many different forms in numer- ous cultures—ancient and primitive tribes, Islam, and Judaism; and in Egyptian, Vedic, Hindu, and Christian traditions. Some writers find it embedded in the first verses of Genesis, written probably more than three thousand years ago; others believe it to be an intrinsic characteristic of classical Greek religion; still others find it a central feature in magic and folklore, and modern feminist writers often see it as the rea son a woman is traditionally asked to take the name of her new husband.”
Any student of cultures knows that it has been a common practice for male leaders to determine that women are property are, therefore, subject to the rule of males.
One we name something or someone we can then attach it to an existing story we have learned or create a new story which validates the associations we already have with the name. If we already know the story of an individual there is no reason to try to get to know who that person is. Many have written about their experience of meeting someone formerly labeled as an enemy - that ni—er, that Jew, that Palestinian, that Muslim, that Christian, that Criminal, that terrorist, that Jap, that woman, that faggot, that … - and then sitting down with them as Mary, Martha, John, Sid, Addel, and listening to the story of that person. They begin to exist as a person with their own story.
Andrew Stanton, filmmaker says that Fred Rogers of Mr. Rogers neighborhood carried in his wallet a quote from a social worker that said, “Frankly, there is not anyone you could not love once you have heard their story.”
Mr. Stanton in a Ted Talk, March 2012 The Clues to a great story states:
And the way I like to interpret that is probably the greatest story commandment, which is "Make me care" -- please, emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically, just make me care.”
Mr. Stanton goes on to say there are several characteristics of a story well told. Let me paraphrase them here, but I hope the reader will take the time to listen to Andrew Stanton’s Ted Talk. They are in my words:
The story makes a promise that his story will head somewhere.
Makes the audience put things together – not what they already thought.
The character or chief character – in this case the storyteller has a spine – something that drives that person.
Makes the listener want to know what happens next and how it will end or conclude.
Has a theme.
Invokes wonder
In has been said that we are our story. If we think we already know our story or the story of another person there is no us because it is not your story but the story I am imposing on you. As soon as I label or name something or someone I have often decided I know all there is to know of their or its story. Empathy with the real person – the real story – is now impossible because the label or name tells me everything I need to know. In God is “I am” he/she/it has a story which has yet to be unfolded.
The United States often tells itself – we tell ourselves, “We are American. We are peaceful. We know best. Our needs are more important. Without us to name you there is no you. You do not have a story. You have no promise, no story to put together, no spine, no surprise, no them and no wonder. We are America – not one of the American states – but we are America.”
If Mullah Mohammad Mansour is merely a bad person, a terrorist it is easy to kill him. If someone is a criminal they do not have a story. I know all I need to know. If someone is a republican, a democrat, an independent I need know no more.
Without a story their can be no you or me. Without a story there can be no empathy. With empathy there can be no tribe.
I will tell you who I am. There is a huge difference between you labeling someone as a “woman” and she label her as, “I AM WOMAN”.
Written May 24, 2016
I first heard the report of the United States drone attack in Pakistan killing Afghan Taliban leader, Mullah Mohammad Mansour on Sunday when listening to the radio while driving to Gainesville for the Women in Blues Festival finale. Of course, I am very aware that we:
The United States feel entitled to enter the airspaces of other countries such as Pakistan.
Use drones to conduct violent missions.
Are convinced that we are justified in killing those we have determined are the enemy.
Can report such accomplishments without any apparent need to grieve the death of a human being.
The announcer on the radio who brought this news to me and all the other listeners heard his voice deliver the news without any apparent emotion or regret. One might think that at this point in my history of having heard and read many such unemotional reports I would not feel any kinship with Mr. Mansour. Yet, I felt something which seemed very much like profound grief. I think I was feeling grief for:
The violent death of this man, Mullah Mohammad Mansour, who was the son of his parents, and, I suspect, related to a great many other people. I too am a son, a father, a sibling, a cousin, a nephew, a friend, a student, and a neighbor.
The fact that I am a citizen of a country which condones not only the violent killing of others but the use such devices as drones which allows us greater emotional distance than a face-to-face killing. Distance makes it easier to think of the person or persons one is killing as objects.
The arrogance which allow us to determine that it is our right to enter another country in person or via impersonal means such as armed drones to kill.
Representatives of we, the citizens of the United States, have determined that we have the right to name someone as the enemy thus pushing aside his (or her) humanness or name something as a drone and infuse it with the power to kill. “The Drone killed. I did not kill another human being.” We also have the right, in the name of peace, to enter another country and kill “the enemy.”
Of course, I have long known that we humans have always used impersonal labels to dehumanize those we want to justify killing, put down, or otherwise harm– krauts , Japs, kooks, commies, “ni—ers,” enemy, insurgent, terrorist, woman, faggot, etc. I am not sure when we humans first posited that we could convince ourselves that we could sever the chord which connects us to all other life forms. Many so called primitive tribes knew that animals have a spirit and that the spirit of animals and the humans involved had a relationship. Thus, if one killed an animal one needed to give thanks to the spirit of the animal.
Susan Silverman, the author, talks about the moment in therapy when the death of her nine-month-old brother was named as a loss. The mere fact of naming it relieved her anxiety about loss enough to allow her to begin to sleep. She had thought that because she was so young when he died that his death could not have been connected to her profound anxiety about loved ones leaving. The therapist made her brother live before he died.
The writer and activist Eve Ensler who is most famous for her play The Vagina Monologues says:
“I believe in the power and mystery of naming things. Language has the capacity to transform our cells, rearrange our learned patterns of behavior and redirect our thinking. I believe in naming what's right in front of us because that is often what is most invisible.”
In the New Testament as used by the Christian Church, the apostle John tells us:
“1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome[a] it.”
Professsor Loren Graham in an article entitled The Power of names: In Culture and in Mathematics, posits:
“A common concept in history is that knowing the name of something or someone gives one power over that thing or person. This concept occurs in many different forms in numerous cultures—ancient and primitive tribes, Islam, and Judaism; and in Egyptian, Vedic, Hindu, and Christian traditions. Some writers find it embedded in the first verses of Genesis, written probably more than three thousand years ago; others believe it to be an intrinsic characteristic of classical Greek religion; still others find it a central feature in magic and folklore, and modern feminist writers often see it as the rea son a woman is traditionally asked to take the name of her new husband.”
Any student of cultures knows that it has been a common practice for male leaders to determine that women are property and, therefore, subject to the rule of males.
Once we name something or someone we can then attach it to an existing story we have learned or create a new story which validates the associations we already have with the name. If we already know the story of an individual there is no reason to try to get to know who that person is. Many have written about their experience of meeting someone formerly labeled as an enemy - that ni—er, that Jew, that Palestinian, that Muslim, that Christian, that criminal, that terrorist, that Jap, that woman, that faggot, that … - and then sitting down with them as Mary, Martha, John, Sid, Addel, and listening to the story of that person. They begin to exist as a person with their own story.
Andrew Stanton, filmmaker says that Fred Rogers of Mr. Rogers neighborhood carried in his wallet a quote from a social worker that said, “Frankly, there is not anyone you could not love once you have heard their story.”
Mr. Stanton in a Ted Talk, March 2012 The clues to a great story states:
“And the way I like to interpret that is probably the greatest story commandment, which is "Make me care" -- please, emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically, just make me care.”
Mr. Stanton goes on to say there are several characteristics of a story well told. Let me paraphrase them here, but I hope the reader will take the time to listen to Andrew Stanton’s Ted Talk. They are in my words:
The story makes a promise that his story will heard somewhere.
Makes the audience put things together – not what they already thought.
The character or chief character – in this case the storyteller has a spine – something that drives that person.
Makes the listener want to know what happens next and how it will end or conclude.
Has a theme.
Invokes wonder
In has been said that we are our story. If we think we already know our story or the story of another person there is no us because it is not your story but the story I am imposing on you. As soon as I label or name something or someone I have often decided I know all there is to know of their or its story. Empathy with the real person – the real story – is now impossible because the label or name tells me everything I need to know.
The United States often tells itself – we tell ourselves, “We are American. We are peaceful. We know best. Our needs are more important. Without us to name you there is no you. You do not have a story. You have no promise, no story to put together, no spine, no surprise, no them and no wonder. We are America – not one of the American states – but we are America.”
If Mullah Mohammad Mansour is merely a bad person, a terrorist it is easy to kill him. If someone is a criminal they do not have a story. I know all I need to know. If someone is a republican, a democrat, an independent I need know no more.
Without a story there can be no you or me. Without a story there can be no empathy. With empathy there can be no tribe.
I will tell you who I am. There is a huge difference between you labeling someone as a “woman” and she labeling herself as, “I AM A WOMAN.”
Written May 24, 2016
From: Jimmy Pickett [mailto:pickettjf@gmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, May 24, 2016 4:45 PM
To: Becky and Bob Johnen
Subject: blog draft
Empathy, naming and story
I first heard the report of the United States drone attack in Pakistan killing of Afghan Taliban leader, Mullah Mohammad Mansour on Sunday when listening to the radio while driving to Gainesville for the Women in Blues Festival finale. Of course, I am very aware that:
We, the United States, feels entitled to enter the airspaces of other countries such as Pakistan.
Use drones to conduct violent missions.
Are convinced that we are justified in killing those we have determined are the enemy.
Can report such accomplishments without any apparent need to grieve the death of a human being.
The announcer on the radio who brought his news to me and all the other listeners to his voice delivered the news without any apparent emotion or regret. One might think that at this point in my history of having heard and read many such unemotional reports I would not feel any kinship with Mr. Mansour. Yet, I felt something which seemed very much like profound grief. I think I was feeling grief for:
The violent death of this man, Mullah Mohammad Mansour, who was the son of his parents, and, I suspect, related to a great many other people. I too am a son, a father, a sibling, a cousin, a nephew, a friend, a student, and a neighbor.
The fact that I am a citizen of a country which condones not only the violent killing of others but the use such devices as drones which allows us greater emotional distance than a face-to-face killing. Distance makes it easier to think of the person or persons one is killing as objects
The arrogance which allow us to determine that it is our right to enter another country in person or via impersonal means such as armed drones to kill.
Representatives of we, the citizens of the United States, have determined that we have the right to name someone as the enemy thus pushing aside his (or her) humanness. name something as a drone and infuse it with the power to kill. “The Drone killed. I did not kill another human being.” We also have the right, in the name of peace, to enter another country and kill “the enemy”.
Of course, I have long known that we humans have always used impersonal labels to dehumanize the those we want to justify killing or otherwise harm– krauts , Japs, kooks, commies, “ni—ers”, enemy, insurgent, terrorist, woman, faggot, etc. I am not sure when we humans first posited that we could convince ourselves that we could sever the chord which connects us to all other life forms. Many so called primitive tribes knew that animals have a spirit and that the spirit of animals and the humans involved had a relationship. Thus, if one killed an animal one needed to give thanks to the spirit of the animal. .
Susan Silverman, the author, talks about the moment in therapy when the death of her 9 month old brother was named as a loss. The mere fact of naming it relieved her anxiety about loss enough to allow her to begin to sleep. She had thought that because she was so young when he died that his death could not have been connected to her profound anxiety about loved ones leaving. The therapist made her brother live before he died.
The writer and activist Eve Ensler who is most famous for her play The Vagina Monologues says:
I believe in the power and mystery of naming things. Language has the capacity to transform our cells, rearrange our learned patterns of behavior and redirect our thinking. I believe in naming what's right in front of us because that is often what is most invisible.
In the New Testament as used by the Christian Church, the apostle John tells us:
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome[a] it.
Professsor Loren Graham in an article entitled The Power of names: In Culture and in Mathematics, posits:
“A common concept in history is that knowing the name of something or someone gives one power over that thing or person. This concept occurs in many different forms in numer- ous cultures—ancient and primitive tribes, Islam, and Judaism; and in Egyptian, Vedic, Hindu, and Christian traditions. Some writers find it embedded in the first verses of Genesis, written probably more than three thousand years ago; others believe it to be an intrinsic characteristic of classical Greek religion; still others find it a central feature in magic and folklore, and modern feminist writers often see it as the rea son a woman is traditionally asked to take the name of her new husband.”
Any student of cultures knows that it has been a common practice for male leaders to determine that women are property are, therefore, subject to the rule of males.
One we name something or someone we can then attach it to an existing story we have learned or create a new story which validates the associations we already have with the name. If we already know the story of an individual there is no reason to try to get to know who that person is. Many have written about their experience of meeting someone formerly labeled as an enemy - that ni—er, that Jew, that Palestinian, that Muslim, that Christian, that Criminal, that terrorist, that Jap, that woman, that faggot, that … - and then sitting down with them as Mary, Martha, John, Sid, Addel, and listening to the story of that person. They begin to exist as a person with their own story.
Andrew Stanton, filmmaker says that Fred Rogers of Mr. Rogers neighborhood carried in his wallet a quote from a social worker that said, “Frankly, there is not anyone you could not love once you have heard their story.”
Mr. Stanton in a Ted Talk, March 2012 The Clues to a great story states:
And the way I like to interpret that is probably the greatest story commandment, which is "Make me care" -- please, emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically, just make me care.”
Mr. Stanton goes on to say there are several characteristics of a story well told. Let me paraphrase them here, but I hope the reader will take the time to listen to Andrew Stanton’s Ted Talk. They are in my words:
The story makes a promise that his story will head somewhere.
Makes the audience put things together – not what they already thought.
The character or chief character – in this case the storyteller has a spine – something that drives that person.
Makes the listener want to know what happens next and how it will end or conclude.
Has a theme.
Invokes wonder
In has been said that we are our story. If we think we already know our story or the story of another person there is no us because it is not your story but the story I am imposing on you. As soon as I label or name something or someone I have often decided I know all there is to know of their or its story. Empathy with the real person – the real story – is now impossible because the label or name tells me everything I need to know. In God is “I am” he/she/it has a story which has yet to be unfolded.
The United States often tells itself – we tell ourselves, “We are American. We are peaceful. We know best. Our needs are more important. Without us to name you there is no you. You do not have a story. You have no promise, no story to put together, no spine, no surprise, no them and no wonder. We are America – not one of the American states – but we are America.”
If Mullah Mohammad Mansour is merely a bad person, a terrorist it is easy to kill him. If someone is a criminal they do not have a story. I know all I need to know. If someone is a republican, a democrat, an independent I need know no more.
Without a story their can be no you or me. Without a story there can be no empathy. With empathy there can be no tribe.
I will tell you who I am. There is a huge difference between you labeling someone as a “woman” and she label her as, “I AM WOMAN”.
Written May 24, 2016
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