Getting the Dickens

    "Business! Mankind was my business. The common welfare
    was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and
    benevolence were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade
    were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my
    business!"



    If Charles Dickens wrote this today, more eyes would roll than hearts would
    quicken.

    In a time when shopping is called "patriotic," and the "free" market is seen
    as an expression of democracy, anyone who doesn't value job security,
    status, and financial stability more than character, courage, and the
    common welfare is seen as naive at best and abetting terrorists at worst.

    This is assuming, of course, we really know what anyone thinks since hardly
    anyone will risk sharing an honest opinion (even anonymously).  We've all
    witnessed nodding to the most preposterous remarks, and, even worse,
    insincere parroting of the preposterous for nothing more than sycophancy.

    We repeat nonsense phrases until we think they mean something.  We
    "reinvent ourselves, meet people where they are, get on the same page,
    invoke best practices, maintain focus, consider stakeholders, respect
    institutional autonomy, and identify skill sets and chilling effects." These
    irrelevant expressions are rendered cruel when cast by the academic elite
    who claim liberal erudition while talking about their last trip to Europe.

    Only in America could you sell the idea of a land of vast opportunity based
    on the fact that one person in ten million rose from rags to riches.  You
    wouldn't place a dollar bet on those odds.  Okay, given the popularity of
    casinos and state lotteries, maybe you would.

    Only in America is committee work, passing around a sympathy card at
    work, or giving someone a car ride, called kindness or heroic compassion.  
    Only in America does generosity not require real risk, sharing, and sacrifice
    but only being "not as stingy as I could be."

    We not only don't want to feel responsibility for our common welfare or real
    sharing, we snicker at those who like the idea.  This was bluntly illustrated
    to me last week when I relayed to a group how touched I was by a woman
    with only two coats who had given one away to someone without a coat.  

    A wealthy man wasn't having it and replied, "I totally know what you mean.
    The other day a woman held the door for me when I was coming out of the
    mall with my hands full. It filled my heart with warmth and made all the long
    lines seem not so bad."

    I keep waiting for the rewrite of Hans Christian Anderson's "The Little Match
    Girl," the version in which she realizes that instead of striking the matches
    she can market them as bookmarks for members of the Oprah book club,
    "Let reading strike your light." This leads to her appearance on the Oprah
    show where Dr. Phil (or Oprah's new bald therapist) confronts her father,
    and her father becomes a recovering alcoholic and popular motivational
    speaker on Sirius radio.  Her grandmother isn't dead after all but has been
    making Old Navy commercials, and they have a tear-filled reunion on "The
    View" where all the audience members are given Old Navy fleece or puffer
    jackets. She meets and marries Sean Lennon, and they start a multinational
    corporation of "Little Matchgirl" merchandise with proceeds going to third-
    world children who are taught pyrotechnic design.  The story ends with all of
    them, amid a fourth of July extravaganza, singing "Baby, you're a rich
    man."  

    We don't want to remember that she froze to death.  She died for the same
    reason children are still dying.  We're not doing what is ours to do to
    prevent it.  As long as the "haves" continue to believe they're more worthy
    (a.k.a. smarter or more talented) concern for the common welfare will never
    be common, let alone our business.

    In "Dark Ages America," Morris Berman asserts that our rampant
    materialism and our erosion of character and humanity are too pervasive to
    reverse, and that American civilization is already lost and will collapse.  His
    case is hard to refute. I guess like the proverbial little boy in the room of
    horse manure who keeps looking for a pony, I'm still hoping if we keep
    digging we might find a community-minded, collective conscience here
    somewhere.
Mona Shaw
December 25, 2006