Written by: Julie Dodge on January 24, 2014

As I soothe my slightly taxed brain, it begins to make sense to me that we were asked to follow up Charles Taylor’s Modern Social Imaginaries[1] with Zygmunt Bauman’s Collateral Damage.[2] In Modern Social Imaginaries, Taylor described the long march of the Western European and North American social imaginary to individualism, presumed equal participation in the public sphere, and self governance. Bauman takes the reader on a winding, at times rambling, journey further into society’s functionality following its move to modernism, and the fall-out of this movement. He sets the scene by examining the agora, a space in society which he defines as having the function of coordinating the “two-way translation between the language of individual/familial interests and the language of public interests.”[3] He then links three key factors of society as interdependent: the social (people), political (governance) and economic (marketplace).[4]

Here is where the structure ends and the wandering begins. The seemingly practical take-away from Collateral Damage is the dysfunction of society that has left a whole segment of people, whom he terms the underclass, excluded from participation in society. These are the poor, the immigrant, the person of color, the teen mother, the criminal … all those who don’t fit into the modern, or even post modern, definition of the social classes. It allows us to act as a society against these faceless others in ways that might otherwise be unimaginable.

From here I move into my own wanderings or meanderings. I wonder what it is about mankind that leads us to think that we alone, as single persons, are unique? Is this a product of modernism? Is it a product of our nature?  Bauman dances with the topic of security – our need for it and our fear of insecurity – as a means for developing power. He suggests that at the social level, the assurance of security is a function of the political and economic sectors. He also suggests that the manipulation of security (or insecurity) is a means of leveraging power. But as individuals we tend not to recognize our connection with the broader whole. Instead we tend to think of ourselves, or perhaps our families, in an isolated fashion. We are individuals, we tell ourselves, not governed by the ideas of the society around us. We can make up our own minds. And so we tell ourselves simple things to increase our sense of security and control of our own lives,

“I am better.” Many people would deny that they actually think this, but it is often how we function. We tell ourselves that we would never … do some horrible thing. We would never hurt a child, or rob a bank, or … It is a rationalization that allows us to think that somehow we are better than the person who does such things. It keeps us protected from our basic human nature, that we are fallen before God and apart from His grace, we are separated from Him. We are unholy apart from God. It keeps us protected from the pain of being human.  If I can hold onto the idea that I am better than those other people, I can blur all those other people together into a faceless blob. They become less human and I don’t have to deal with them. They can be excluded. Which if we as individuals do this at a collective level, suddenly whole groups of people are excluded from society and we can collectively tell ourselves that we are better.

Except for the fact that we are not better. In Alcoholics Anonymous there is a saying, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” It is the recognition that apart from God’s grace, I could do anything to anyone. Given the right circumstances I could be complicit in large scale atrocities such as genocide, or small scale evils such as murder or theft or lying. It is a hard truth to accept; that I am a sinner by nature, and saved only by God’s grace. But when I recognize the truth of my own nature, I am more able to have compassion, and express empathy, for the other. “They” become “we” (or me).

“I am protected.” Again, many people would deny that they believe this as well. However, our brains seem to consistently suggest at least two rationalizations to increase our sense of safety and security. First, we tell ourselves that _________ (some bad thing) won’t happen to me. I won’t be robbed. I won’t be raped. I won’t have my identity stolen. That won’t happen to me.  It is simple denial, the most primitive of all of our psychological defense mechanisms. Collectively it becomes “that won’t happen in my neighborhood/city/country”. And then we are shocked when it does. It’s the classic TV news interview with a neighbor after some horrible event occurs, and the neighbor says, “Those things just don’t happen in our neighborhood. Everyone here is nice.” Our neighborhood/home/life is safe. The second rationalization when bad things happen is to blame the other: that person must have done something to deserve it. If that person is to blame, and I wouldn’t do those things, then it won’t happen to me and I am safe. The blamed are again faceless and they are not me and I remain safe.

Until something happens to threaten our security. Bauman examines this phenomena in many ways. He discusses the Post 9/11 “security” environment, the holocaust of Germany, the nuclear bombing of Japan. He paints the picture that it gets easier to complete the most heinous acts once the “other” has become without a face or blame-worthy. “They” are not me and they deserved it and I am still safe. It is a false security. Whether it is the poor or the Jew or the Muslim or the mentally ill – they are not me and I am safe.

Bauman introduces the story of Job as a means of demonstrating both a philosophical point and the uncertainty of controlling God. I think of another example. I think of God the Almighty, becoming Jesus, the man. He who was not me, and was safe, became me in order to save me. He identified with me, and with all of mankind. He left God’s sovereign protection to identify with the other. He did not claim to be better, though He had every right to do so. His life gives each of us a face.

Preacher/Poet John Donne was a pre-modern man. I use his words every semester as I introduce my students to the concept of the community. Donne speaks to the conscious recognition that as individuals, we are all connected to the other. This pre-modern idea still resonates with my students. They seem to see it as “right”, though they can’t always say why, or why it is so hard to do. I call it a starting point.

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.” (John Donne, Meditation XVII).

About the Author

Julie Dodge

Julie loves coffee and warm summer days. She is an Assistant Professor of Social Work at Concordia University, Portland, a consultant for non-profit organizations, and a leader at The Trinity Project.