It has been a while since I used the thinking of David Brooks, New York Times editorial writer, to focus some thoughts on spiritual development. I continue to read Brooks because he is so well and so thoughtful. Even if I were to disagree with him, I have to contend with a first-rate mind who has profoundly thought about an issue and carved out his own position. And so it was, I was attracted to a recent opinion of his which appeared under the title, “Two Cheers for Feminism.”
It would be easy for people---particularly males---to dismiss this article because of the title. But I have a wife, two girls and two granddaughters, plus a significant array of female colleagues and friends. I cannot dismiss this kind of thinking because of a title. So I dove into Brooks’ thinking. And I was rewarded. He begins by allowing that he disagrees a great deal with what he calls “academic feminism.” We don’t need to get into that. I am more interested in where he is really going.
His second paragraph gets at the real emerging issue. Brooks says, “The big thing is that for thousands of years social thinking has been dominated by men — usually alpha men — who saw life as a place where warriors and traders went out and competed for wealth and power. These male writers were largely blind to the systems of care that undergirded everything else.” I think this is true, but cost humanity a big price. And this is Brooks’ point. He simply concludes, “These male-dominated narratives created a tunnel.”
No doubt, I have participated in this kind of tunnel-thinking. But I don’t want to do that. Brooks shows us how to grow beyond this kind of thinking and acting. We get at the cost of tunnel-thinking when we listen to Brooks tell us, “Everything that extolled competition, self-interest and independence was celebrated, and everything that celebrated relation and intimacy was diminished.” It is easy for me to recognize myself in this passage. But in fact, I relate best to the first half of the passage---the competition, self-interest and independence. I am trying to include the other half in my life, too---the relation and intimacy.
Brooks names the effect very well. He says this male “narratives created a tunnel. Everything that extolled competition, self-interest and independence was celebrated, and everything that celebrated relation and intimacy was diminished.” No doubt, many of us lived in this tunnel and never gave it a thought. And women were affected by this tunnel, too. Sadly, many of us are not aware of this tunnel. Brooks allows, “When children are young, they grow up unaware of the tunnel.”
But then the tunnel begins to work its effect. Girls “begin to hide themselves in order to fit in.” And boys “are born with a great talent for emotional openness and a great capacity for deep and loving male friendships.” But then we tend to change, too. “They often turn stoical, unemotional and tough. They seek to belong by being apathetic and independent.” Of course, this is not true of every single girl and boy. But summarily, we can say that “culture teaches girls not to talk and boys not to feel.” I do think Brooks and other writers, particularly those who share a feminist concern, are on to something. And it is something we can change.
This is where religion comes in and why I like reading Brooks. About this situation Brooks, comments, “All of this was survivable when religion played a bigger role in national life, with its gospel of mercy, charity and love. But now we have an ethos of detachment and competition all the way down.” Religion helped moderate the typical male syndrome. Religion’s focus on mercy, charity and love helped men learn something about the more traditional maternal instinct. All that is a good thing.
But it is a thing we are in danger of losing in our increasingly secular culture. When religion goes away or is minimized, then we pay a big price. I love the way Brooks describes the problem. He acknowledges we have an “ethos of detachment.” And we witness the ethos of competition permeate our way of life. Detachment erodes a call to mercy, charity and love. Competition provides an unhealthy context for the work of mercy, charity and love.
Competition creates winners and losers. And detachment pays little interest in the losers. If males lose their sense of feeling, it is touch to manifest compassion. If I am detached, I can truly say I don’t care. And it does not bother me. A macho world is a threat to the feminine and a disaster for the masculine. We need both. And healthy people manifest both.
It is not simply girls vs boys, nor women against men. Spiritually we are creatures of a loving God who made us in the image. As such, we must create an ethos of engagement to combat what Brooks labels a “crisis of connection.” I appreciate this analysis and its call to action. We cannot simply be content to lament our plight. We need to respond to a call to create.
We will create a new culture, fabricate a culture of connection and inaugurate a community of bright, healthy and caring children of God.
It would be easy for people---particularly males---to dismiss this article because of the title. But I have a wife, two girls and two granddaughters, plus a significant array of female colleagues and friends. I cannot dismiss this kind of thinking because of a title. So I dove into Brooks’ thinking. And I was rewarded. He begins by allowing that he disagrees a great deal with what he calls “academic feminism.” We don’t need to get into that. I am more interested in where he is really going.
His second paragraph gets at the real emerging issue. Brooks says, “The big thing is that for thousands of years social thinking has been dominated by men — usually alpha men — who saw life as a place where warriors and traders went out and competed for wealth and power. These male writers were largely blind to the systems of care that undergirded everything else.” I think this is true, but cost humanity a big price. And this is Brooks’ point. He simply concludes, “These male-dominated narratives created a tunnel.”
No doubt, I have participated in this kind of tunnel-thinking. But I don’t want to do that. Brooks shows us how to grow beyond this kind of thinking and acting. We get at the cost of tunnel-thinking when we listen to Brooks tell us, “Everything that extolled competition, self-interest and independence was celebrated, and everything that celebrated relation and intimacy was diminished.” It is easy for me to recognize myself in this passage. But in fact, I relate best to the first half of the passage---the competition, self-interest and independence. I am trying to include the other half in my life, too---the relation and intimacy.
Brooks names the effect very well. He says this male “narratives created a tunnel. Everything that extolled competition, self-interest and independence was celebrated, and everything that celebrated relation and intimacy was diminished.” No doubt, many of us lived in this tunnel and never gave it a thought. And women were affected by this tunnel, too. Sadly, many of us are not aware of this tunnel. Brooks allows, “When children are young, they grow up unaware of the tunnel.”
But then the tunnel begins to work its effect. Girls “begin to hide themselves in order to fit in.” And boys “are born with a great talent for emotional openness and a great capacity for deep and loving male friendships.” But then we tend to change, too. “They often turn stoical, unemotional and tough. They seek to belong by being apathetic and independent.” Of course, this is not true of every single girl and boy. But summarily, we can say that “culture teaches girls not to talk and boys not to feel.” I do think Brooks and other writers, particularly those who share a feminist concern, are on to something. And it is something we can change.
This is where religion comes in and why I like reading Brooks. About this situation Brooks, comments, “All of this was survivable when religion played a bigger role in national life, with its gospel of mercy, charity and love. But now we have an ethos of detachment and competition all the way down.” Religion helped moderate the typical male syndrome. Religion’s focus on mercy, charity and love helped men learn something about the more traditional maternal instinct. All that is a good thing.
But it is a thing we are in danger of losing in our increasingly secular culture. When religion goes away or is minimized, then we pay a big price. I love the way Brooks describes the problem. He acknowledges we have an “ethos of detachment.” And we witness the ethos of competition permeate our way of life. Detachment erodes a call to mercy, charity and love. Competition provides an unhealthy context for the work of mercy, charity and love.
Competition creates winners and losers. And detachment pays little interest in the losers. If males lose their sense of feeling, it is touch to manifest compassion. If I am detached, I can truly say I don’t care. And it does not bother me. A macho world is a threat to the feminine and a disaster for the masculine. We need both. And healthy people manifest both.
It is not simply girls vs boys, nor women against men. Spiritually we are creatures of a loving God who made us in the image. As such, we must create an ethos of engagement to combat what Brooks labels a “crisis of connection.” I appreciate this analysis and its call to action. We cannot simply be content to lament our plight. We need to respond to a call to create.
We will create a new culture, fabricate a culture of connection and inaugurate a community of bright, healthy and caring children of God.
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