epilogue to cultural autobiography

Epilogue

Reflecting back on what I wrote in my cultural autobiography I am struck by how much easier it is to perceive and criticize aspects of our culture that we have least internalized. Those aspects of our culture that most influence our ways of thinking are usually those we are least aware off, the “background” that Dr. Branson speaks of. My early reflection picked at threads of this background, usually as a result of some boundary crossing experience, but naturally most of that background remained unperceived and uncommented on.

Two readings this quarter have been particularly helpful for me in bringing that background into my field of vision, in problematizing my cultural assumptions for me to again borrow Branson’s language. Emerson and Smith in “Divided by Faith” note the individualistic assumptions and anti-structural assumptions of Evangelicalism (also found Euro-American culture in general). While I think that these assumptions are less engrained in me as a post-modern millennial than they are in my parents, for example, I had never before found the language to describe these assumptions even as I reacted to them. For several years I have felt that systems need addressed and changed, and that the church has not done enough in this area, but I didn’t have the vocabulary with which to fully and insightfully critique this state of affairs. Like a child learning vocabulary and concepts to make sense of this world we need words to make sense of our experiences.

The second reading that helped me see my cultural background was Eric Law’s treatment of power in “The Wolf Shall Dwell with the Lamb.” My perception of power was something that was truly a part of me but of which I was completely unconscious until now. Of the readings this has probably had the most impact on how I interact in multicultural settings. My church is predominantly African-American, and it has been particularly helpful to keep in mind potential differences in power-perception when interacting with my brothers and sisters (particularly the sisters).

Of course, much of my cultural background remains invisible to me even now. The goal cannot be to make the whole background pop into the foreground, but rather to begin to be aware of this background, that it is operating and is a factor in my interactions.

Where to go from here? What are my competencies, and what are my areas of weakness? Musing over these questions I recalled my interaction with people in East-Germany, probably the most significant cultural gap that I have faced. I enjoyed that time immensely even though it was hard going. There is something that I simply love about the messy business of boundary crossing, and that is a helpful place to start.

As I reflected on that experience I realized that there are two significant factors in addition to myself in any boundary crossing endeavor. My experience would have been quite different if the people I interacted with were not open to interaction and dialogue. Whenever I face a cross-cultural situation I need to be thankful for those I am engaging with. Secondly, without God’s moving in our situations none of this would be possible. As I think about boundary crossing and engage in multiethnic events and interactions I need to remember God’s role in this work.

My greatest weaknesses come right back to the first paragraph of my cultural autobiography—I am a white, educated, Euro-American male. As Eric Law points out, I perceive myself and am perceived of as having power. I can “live” the American dream and “make a name for myself” (Gen. 11), and will, unless I learn to live the cycle of cross to resurrection. I need to follow the example of Christ, “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant…” (Phil. 2:5-6). This is not natural to anyone, but is keenly difficult for those (like myself) who hold the most power. Jesus said that it is hard for the rich to enter the Kingdom of God; no matter how I hash it, I am rich—not just materially, but also in education, cultural capitol, etc. As I continue to be involved in boundary crossing I will need to consciously divest myself of this power, giving all that I have to those who have not. I will continue to fail at this, but I hope that what I have learned will help me to fail less frequently, and to succeed more often in becoming a servant, giving to those who do not have, and empowering those who lack power.

Reflections on Eric Law's book

Eric Law’s book is essentially about power. In a multicultural context power is perceived differently, held by different people, and used differently (e.g. leadership styles). I found Law’s cycle of cross (powerlessness) and resurrection (empowerment) helpful, not just in terms of leading or participating in a multicultural setting but even in daily life. We are called to follow Christ in his obedience to God, which often means becoming weak, however we (and some individuals more than others) also need to hear the message of empowerment. In daily life we will encounter situations where we need to either divest ourselves of power or claim empowerment through God, often in the same day.

People like me, well educated, white males, will need to consciously relinquish perceived power in many cases. One example of how this would play out in ministry was explained to me by a parishioner at the Latino church I visited for class a few weeks ago. I spoke with an Anglo man who had helped found the Latino congregation (he had been a missionary in Mexico), and told how he had to consciously back down from places of power when the church was just getting started. He didn’t put himself in power, he was simply perceived by those around him to be the one holding the power. When important decisions were being made, he said, all the Latinos would hold their breath and look to him to see what he had to say first. He said it took several meetings where he would refuse to have the first word before the people began to be comfortable making their own decisions. Ultimately this was healthy for the church because those who perceived that they had no power in this society, who were used to the white man telling them what to do and how to do it, these people gradually began to be empowered both in their own minds and in the life of their church. Now decisions can be made and this white man is just another voice, equal with the others in the church—no more, no less.

Law’s book made me reflect on situations I have been in where I was the vocal white person unconsciously dominating the discussion. In classes I’m fairly vocal, and while I have been conscious of that and try not to dominate I had not been aware of the power dynamics that Law points out. Recently I have been more conscious of this, particularly in my church bible-study which is usually mostly African-American women, my wife, and myself. In this situation you have many people from the group that has the least amount of power, perceived or otherwise (African-American women) and then me, who is a white male and therefore from the social group that perceives itself with the most power. I am more careful now to not speak first and to affirm those who speak seldom when they do speak. Also, because my native language is academic and because I am rather articulate, I try to be conscious of the words I use to avoid making anyone feel less educated, less smart or otherwise inferior simply because of my words. I don’t quite adopt ghetto English, but I do tend to use down to earth metaphors, examples and basic English that we all know well.

some more questions

Do theologians, etc. who speak from the margins see more clearly than those who speak from the center (to use Jung Young Kim’s language)? I believe some liberation theologians speak of the epistemological advantage of the marginalized; and I have noted that I sense more vitality and truth in the words of the marginalized (or those from the dominant culture who listen closely to the non-dominant neighbor) than in the words of those who speak from the center and do not even realize their centrality.

For example, I have seriously wondered if our Brehm center is not counter-productive by focusing on that which is a concern and of interest to predominantly white, suburban Christians. Is this just another spiritual vineyard for us wealthy to enjoy while our neighbors and the foreigner among us starve (literally and figuratively)? That is at my most cynical moments—but I do seriously wonder at times. The people I worship with on Sundays, African-Americans, do not have much time to think about the juncture of theology and art; they are more concerned with housing their brothers and sisters, getting the young people into and through college, and helping each other get out from under the tyranny of credit-card companies. They do also love dance and music; but they have no need of an institute in which to study such things.

When in one afternoon I go from reading the theology of the marginalized to reading about “the problem of divine action,” I sense a jarring dissonance, and try as I might to assure myself that the kingdom needs people to think about the problem of divine action it sounds and feels incredibly far away, scholastic, and trivial. I have grown up in a context in which the intellectual is highly valued, yet I wonder if what truly maters is sensitivity to the least of these rather than philosophical and theological sophistication/viability etc. Would a community that ignored whether its beliefs cohered with the latest thought in science and the humanities but focused simply on feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and visiting those in prison survive? Would such a community be more vital and attuned to God’s will, to the kingdom, than a community in which theological, philosophical and other theoretical concerns were eloquently and insightfully addressed but which did nothing to feed, clothe, visit, etc.? My wife reminds me that there is more to the kingdom than social justice; but this thought experiment does bother me.

I have a deep seated instinct to seek moderation, in this case to say that both (social justice and theoretical work) are needed—but is that right? Somehow I feel the community that ignored the theoretical all together and focused entirely on living out the kingdom would be better off. But perhaps this is wrong; perhaps such a community would become something like the Elks Club or the Shriners—ostensibly committed to good but ultimately rather innocuous. When I reflect on the Christians who have influenced me the most, and the leaders who I resonate most with, most have a combination of practical and theoretical insight. Theory should, in theory, lead to practice, and practices set the ponderous among us to theorizing. But I do not want to evade the pressure of these questions--I still wonder about the Brehm center.

reflections on wikis

African-American

The repression of African language, religion and tradition during the slave period, noted in the history section of this wiki, is both closely related to much of our course material and significant for understanding African-American culture. The inter-relation of language, practice and religion has been pointed out; language is culture, and furthermore shapes worldviews. By attempting to deny slaves the right to practice traditions and religions and perhaps most importantly to speak their native tongues, Anglo slave owners sought to essentially destroy African culture. But of course, something had to fill this void since African slaves were not admitted into the Anglo dominated colonial culture. This gave rise to the unique African-American culture that has graced our society with eloquent and passionate preachers like Martin Luther King, and shaped most of our music from Jazz and Rock to Rap and R&B.

However, the attempt to deny African-American culture has not been limited to the slave era. Emerson and Smith noted that when the dominant culture reflects on deviant or sub-cultural art forms, typically “white” styles (e.g. metal) are criticized for degrading individual youth, whereas typically “black” styles (e.g. Rap) are criticized for being dangerous to society as a whole. Furthermore, it is not unusual for white Americans to accuse African-Americans of trying to “live in the past” when African-Americans attempt to salvage some shreds of identity from their more than tragic past in this country. Consequently, the attempt on the part of Euro-Americans to deny African-Americans a culture is not limited to early nineteenth century Mississippi.

Euro-American

It was quite interesting to read about my own culture as researched and compiled by students from a different culture. Often what is striking or important for an outsider is assumed and subconscious to those native to the culture in question. I think this holds true for many of the observations in the Euro-American wiki, and it was enlightening to hear from an others perspective.

Family, of course, is a hot topic for many conservative white Christians, however it is still often taken for granted. The divorce rate is slightly higher for evangelical Americans than for the population at large, which suggests that even if we are aware of the problem we don’t take it too seriously. Something may be going on at the perception level; as Emerson and Smith pointed out, evangelicals tend to think individualistically rather than systemically, consequently family is defined as “nuclear” and any problems in particular families are particular problems. Thus the stock evangelical answer to the high divorce rate is to legislate or otherwise reaffirm individualistic “nuclear” family values, values that emphasize the nuclear family as the atoms of society.

Asian-American

First off, I would like to suggest that this wiki is used as an example of what a good wiki looks like next time this class is taught. After reading this wiki I feel like I have a much better grasp of what was aimed for with the wiki assignments. Excellent work folks, good job!

The history of Asian immigration very clearly demonstrates some of the effects of western and U.S. colonialism. It was pointed out that many of these groups have faced persecution and difficulty upon immigrating here; Asians perhaps more than most other immigrant groups have been viewed as suspicious, foreign “others.” However, in many cases United States imperialism and interventionism has strongly drawn Asians to this country. Koreans, Vietnamese and Filipinos in particular have been caught up in the actions of this country; in many cases the U.S. came to them before they came to the U.S. This does not necessarily mean that we should not be involved in international affairs (isolationism), but it does suggest that we should welcome immigrants from those countries we have been involved with rather than view them with utter suspicion.

The authors of this wiki do an excellent job of raising cultural practices and issues. As the authors point out, Asian-Americans have particularly struggled to maintain their ethnic identity, and often the difficulty of doing so has resulted in a division between first and subsequent generation Asian-Americans. Korean-American scholar and seminary professor Jung Young Kim has pointed out some of the positive contributions Asian-Americans (and other hyphenated-Americans) are able to make to Christian living. These hyphenated peoples know on a deep level what it is like to live in two realities; e.g. to be both Chinese and American, and as a result to be something entirely new as well. Similarly Christians are to live in a sort of hyphenated state; the kingdom is already here but not yet complete, we are in the world but not of it, and so on. Kim uses the term “marginality” to define the space occupied by hyphenated people; they live at the margins of two identities and cultures. We can learn much from this place as Christians, and particularly as Christians seeking to embrace cultural diversity and intercultural communication. To live on the margin rather than in the privileged center means one touches the margins of other cultures--if we stay in the center, comfortably ensconced in our own native culture, we will never truly communicate across those margins.

post-script to Divided by Faith reading response

I found the chapter on the history of race in the U.S. enlightening for some interesting reasons. Several passages illustrate how quickly we defend the status quo or how the powerful defend the systems that benefit them as right, just and moral. Biblical arguments have been used to defend slavery, often with fairly good textual basis (esp. some of what Paul had to say). It disturbed me how similar some of the scriptural arguments were to arguments I hear today from the bible. For example, the argument against pacifism that runs "John the Baptist did not tell the soldiers to find another job but simply told them to not abuse their power or extort money, so militarism is biblically justified." Therefore we can ignore Jesus' words "I tell you, do not resist them..."
Similarly, Emerson and Smith quote a Christian publication c. 1900 arguing that Jim Crow laws are really in the best interest of African-Americans, and so black outcry against the laws is laughable. This sounds strikingly similar to arguments against affirmative action, or arguments for abolishing the well-fare system: the powerful justifying a change that is in the interest of the powerful by portraying the objection of the oppressed as laughable and irrational while maintaining that you are really acting out of altruistic motives.
Reading the history of race in America may equip us to challenge this line of reasoning when we face it in our contemporary context. I do not yet know if there are generalizations that can be drawn from this; e.g. what constitutes a bad scriptural argument vs. a good one, or should we just throw out arguments based on the bible all together?

Divided by Faith reading response

The recurring question in my mind as I read Divided by Faith was how can white evangelicals be brought to see structural issues and not just individual problems in race relations? This lead to a second question, viz. how have I learned to see structurally and not just individually, because in the not so distant past I was a prototypical white evangelical. I remember thinking many of the things that Emerson and Smith heard from white evangelicals, e.g. “We don’t have racism here. I think it’s in your big cities” or “yes there’s a race problem here, but it’s not as bad as people make it out to be.” In particular, I recall thinking about problems completely individualistically, that if individuals just tried hard enough they could overcome their disadvantages etc. Somehow, however, my thinking changed over the last ten years and today I tend to think more like Marx than Horatio Alger.

The pressing question for me, then, is how did that happen? How did I as a white, more or less evangelical, Christian come to see differently? Because if I can figure that out maybe I can help other white evangelicals think differently.

To be honest I probably need to chalk something up to my cynicism; it just makes sense that the system is rigged, prejudiced against certain groups. However, my cynic nature would not have been stirred without the education I have received. Ironically, education is a notoriously difficult variable to predict; for example, according to James Loewen, people with a college education disproportionately supported the Viet Nam war. Likewise, Emerson and Smith note that while well educated Euro-American evangelicals are more likely to be highly segregated from African-Americans, because they possess the keys to the “American dream” and are therefore more likely to live in exclusive suburbs and occupy the elite positions that African-Americans are inhibited from holding. Education alone does not answer the question.

If education alone does not answer the question, the kind of education may offer helpful clues. For example, I certainly learned much more than history while taking a class in Latin American history. By the time I took the course my mode of perception was already significantly changed from my former western liberal, free-will individualist view, however learning the history of countries that have very much been forced down over and again by global structures and western hegemony cemented a more structuralist way of thinking. In this way, learning the stories of individuals, groups and countries played a significant part in opening my eyes to structural sin.

Let me shift gears and briefly note some other questions that the book raised for me. The latter chapters, 6-8 in particular, sparked several thoughts. Emerson and Smith’s analysis of religion in the U.S. is helpful for understanding how we have gotten here, however it raises the disturbing question of how can we change the shape of things given these powerful social and psychological forces? For example, while the religious marketplace has contributed to the commoditization of religion and to the racialization of this country, does anyone really want a return to medieval religious monopoly or some state-sponsored church? Are racialization and commoditization inevitable results of religious pluralism, or can things be different? Finally, in some passages Emerson and Smith seem to imply that the goal is a unified religious scene without difference. Social conventions that give rise to distinct cultural groups are discussed with a slightly negative tone, like that used by a Victorian-era housewife when speaking of sex—necessary or unavoidable, but unfortunate. Perhaps I am inferring things because I have also read the follow up book United by Faith, which made mileage off the term mestizaje, a term that is uncomfortably close to “melting pot” for my pluralist taste. To put my concern another way, is the goal for Emerson and Smith an intercultural dialogue, or for all distinctions to fall away so that monologue may be achieved? Perhaps I am misperceiving their tone, but I was uneasy with it at certain points.

Communication

A night or so back my wife and I were talking about communication, particularly in the context of marriage and relationships. Bethany noted that many aspects of communication (and communication difficulties) in marriage have analogues in the cross-cultural sphere that we have been looking at in class. For example, consider the stereotypical situation in which man asks "is something wrong?" and woman responds "no I'm fine" and the man leaves it at that even though something is obviously wrong.
This is a stereotype, and as a result imperfect and only marginally helpful, but it does illustrate a few things. First, the differences in communication styles (direct/indirect) reinforce each others frustration. The man is frustrated because he knows something isn't right but the woman just won't come out and say what is wrong, while the woman feels that the man is being insensitive. (incidentally, this thought process stems from the conversation my wife and I were having, which began with me having to probe carefully to figure out what was wrong. That took time and energy, and I realized that it would be tempting to just leave it at "yes I'm fine"). This scenario is similar to the situation professor Martinez described between the Anglo denominational official and the Latino congregation. There is a communication difficulty, and it is tempting for both sides to just give it up and let the other be.
two things I noted from these scenarios, two things that are needed for authentic communication to take place. 1) One must put the other before the self, and 2) communication requires perserverance, an emotional commitment if you will.
In the above examples, for communication to proceed one or both parties needs to begin thinking of and for the other, and make the needs of the other important enough to stop everything and make sure that communication takes place. One can ask the question "is something wrong?" without significantly changing one's thought process and direction, but when the other says "I'm fine" when it is clear they are not one is faced with a decision. One can break off what one was thinking/doing/planning and make the other's concerns one's own, or one can shrug it off and go on with one's day. To communicate here will require more care for the other; one cannot approach this instance of communication simply with one's own interests in mind. To truly communicate here requires one to break pace, pull up and "wait a minute"--something is not right and the other needs assurance that one really want's it to become "our" problem rather than just "their" problem. This thought could be pursued further along the lines of "bear one another's burdens."
Bound up with the commitment to the other is a commitment to persevere, a commitment of emotional energy and concern. It takes some strange emotional and mental "oomph" (yes, that is the technical term--oomph) to try to open up communication with another when something is clearly not right. There is a concern that "maybe I'll just make things worse" or "what if it's my fault?" as well as the simple issue of having to give up one's own concerns for a moment to share the concerns of another.
I break of the train of thought here to note that we need to better understand what our goal is. When I asked my wife "is something wrong?" I did not simply want a "yes" or "no," i.e. my goal was something other than knowledge. May I suggest that what we seek in communication is communion? Russian philosopher and literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin wrote "to be is to be in communion." The question then shifts to, what is communion? Not knowledge of the internal states of another, though that is a mediating step perhaps? Bearing each other's burdens--this seems to have something to do with communion; not just burdens but joys as well. These are some questions that we could/should raise...
Returning to requirement 2, the need for emotional commitment/perserverance, we see some interesting implications for our intercultural communications. For example, communication between Anglos and African-Americans will require a particularly large amount of emotional strength and resolve because questions like "maybe it's my fault" or "are they angry at me?" are much closer to the surface. To return to the analogy of marriage, it is more difficult to communicate if I know full well that I have some how hurt my wife than if I have not (to the best of my knowledge) hurt her myself. Even in the latter case there is the nagging question, "was it something I did or said, or didn't do or say?" When cultures that have hurt and been hurt by each other attempt to communicate--to commune--the stakes are higher, consequently more emotional oomph is needed.

Church Visit Report

Report on Latino Church Visit

I visited the Iglesia Episcopal Anglicana Nuestra Sra De Guadalupe (http://hometown.aol.com/rhaje/iglepisgpe1.html) in San Jose California for their Sunday morning mass. The church is located in downtown San Jose, right by St. James Park and the light-rail line. The congregation meets in the Trinity Cathedral (http://www.trinitysj.org/) which claims to be the oldest such building in California and is home to an English speaking, Episcopal congregation.

I observed and learned in two ways, first as an observer and secondly in talking with some of the congregation after the service. The entire service was in Spanish, so my ability to observe was limited to the nonverbal. My first observation was that the service began on stereotypical “Latin American time,” about ten minutes late. I was also struck by the number of small children and young families: almost every pew had a baby carrier or toddler. The service was marked by a sort of porousness as people came and went through almost every door throughout the whole mass. This informality was striking in contrast to the formality and structure of the liturgy. I observed that the congregation was able to enjoy symbolism, structure and liturgy without reverting into rigid formality. In contrast to most Anglo Roman Catholic or Episcopal services I have attended this service was full of life and joy.

My wife commented that it was inspiring to see the Eucharist celebrated with such joy. The term “celebrate” is always used in conjunction with the Lord’s Supper, but many churches do it in a somber and solemn way. This congregation actually smiled as they “celebrated” the sacrament. The music lent itself to this atmosphere, strongly rooted in Mexican folk music with lively guitar and accordion accompaniment.

After the service I talked with a few people, and was eventually pointed towards one of the founders of the parish. The man was an Anglo who had spent several years as a missionary to Mexico before returning to his native San Jose and starting an Episcopal Latino congregation in 1994. His adopted son (born in Mexico) served as the priest early on, and is presently a church planter. The congregation quickly grew from a few families to over 1000 members. I was told that about half the congregation were Anglicans from Mexico, while the other half were brought into the Anglican church through evangelism.

Many of the folks in the congregation say the Episcopal Church is what they were always looking for but didn’t know existed. It has the liturgy and symbolism they are familiar with and love, but is more open to liberation theology, social justice, and family planning than the traditional Roman Catholic Church. I was told that there is a saying in Mexico, “I’ll become Catholic when the Pope will support my 14 children.” I was told (since I could not understand the homily) that the sermons consistently deal with liberation theology and the social gospel.

The congregation was actively working to overcome Anglo domination of Latinos. I was told that the greatest gift the English speaking Episcopal congregation gave the Spanish congregation was not telling them how to do church. It was also clear in how the celebrant (an Anglo due to the dearth of ordained Latino priests) deferred to the Latino leader (presently in seminary to be ordained). The celebrant visibly deferred to the Latino leader, stepping in only at the point of breaking the bread. Even without speaking Spanish I could see that the Anglo priest was consciously subordinating himself to the non-ordained Latino leader.

The culture of family as opposed to the Anglo culture of individualism was also a key part of the church and its practices. I was told that early on many Anglo churches pressured them to do house groups, because that is the accepted method of church planting among Anglos. They found that it did not work in the context of Mexican immigrants because the house, family and church work in profoundly different ways there. For Mexicans, ones family is one’s house group, the branch of the church at home. What they found did work was to have families sponsor mass in their homes around Lent, because this drew in extended family. Once one couple began coming to church, their family often followed, but it was in the church that they extended ties beyond the family, not in house groups.

rough draft for history if immigration etc.

Here's a rough draft of my Wikki material; feel free to critique and provide suggestions.
cheers,
Daniel

History of Latino/a Immigration
The topics of Latino’s in America and immigration are closely bound in the minds of many Euro- and African-Americans, but this link is somewhat misguiding. Much of the South West was settled by Latino’s (both peninsulares and mestizos) long before Anglos arrived, and many Mexicans found themselves suddenly U.S. citizens after the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Thus it is incorrect to view Latinos in the U.S. as essentially “immigrants.”
Nevertheless, no story of Latino’s in the U.S. would be complete without telling about the experience of Latino immigrants. Mexicans, Cubans and Puerto Ricans represent the three largest groups and will be covered briefly below. The last few decades have also seen increased immigration from Central American countries. Juan Gonzalez notes that there is a push-pull phenomenon that has and will continue to compel Latinos to immigrate. On the one hand, a persistently bad economic situation in much of Latin America drives Latinos to seek a livelihood elsewhere, while on the other hand the demand for cheep labor and the media barrage from the United States draws them here (Gonzalez, p.205).

Cuban Immigration

Historically Cuba and the U.S. have shared close ties. Cuba produced large amounts of sugar that the U.S. craved and the U.S. in turn profited from exporting goods to the island. Before Fidel Castro took power many of the elite in Cuba had foraged close ties in the U.S. thus after the 1959 revolution many looked northward. Furthermore, during the height of the Cold War the U.S. was willing to extend many favors to Cuban immigrants that it did not extend to other Latino groups. The first wave of Cuban immigrants were well educated (often from U.S. universities) and aristocratic, and the bulk of them settled in Miami and Dade County. In the 80’s things began to change, however, as large numbers of poorly educated and economically destitute Cubans began to show up off the coast of Florida, called the Murial boat people. The arrival of these unskilled, poorly educated Cubans began to change national sentiment towards new immigrants from that country, and in 1994 President Clinton brought an end to the special treatment of Cuban immigrants.

Puerto Rican Immigration

Puerto Rico stands in an ambiguous place, a product of manifest destiny and colonialism that is unwanted by the now neo-colonial United States. Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens by birth, yet are consistently treated as second-rate citizens at best and foreigners at worst. In the post WWII years Puerto Ricans settled predominantly in New York City and New Jersey, though subsequent generations have formed enclaves elsewhere.

Mexican Immigration

People of Mexican descent represent by far the largest single group of Latinos in the U.S. (Juan Gonzalez claims two out of three Latinos living in the U.S. is of Mexican heritage). The history of Mexican-Americans (also called Chicanos) and Mexican immigration is also key to understanding the story of Latinos in California. Furthermore, Mexican-Americans can claim the distinction of having the longest presence on this soil of any ethnic group besides Native Americans. Many Mexicans found themselves suddenly citizens of the United States after the Mexican-American war and the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo made much of the South West (including Texas and California) United States territory. Thus many Latinos can claim deeper roots in this land than most Anglos.

Since Guadalupe Hidalgo the U.S. has experienced several waves of Mexican immigration, often followed by corresponding anti-immigration backlash. As Gonzalez puts it, “Mexicans…have historically been ‘pulled’ here only to be treated as easily deportable labor” (Gonzalez, p. 202). The first big wave of migrant labor from Mexico followed close on the heels of World War I, when large growers began to increase their profits by hiring cheap Mexican labor. Things changed with the onset of the depression as the dust-bowl drought and subsequent exodus of large numbers of whites from the dust-bowl regions to more prosperous regions such as California and Washington created competition with the Mexicans working in these areas. Political pressures lead to the rounding up and deportation of hundreds of thousands of Mexicans (including many who were now American citizens) through out the early thirties, and to make matters worse the decade saw a precipitous decline in wages.
Post WW II Immigration Boom
With the arrival of WW II came shortage of white men to work farm jobs, once more creating a demand for Mexican labor. This war-time demand lead to the construction of the bracero program, in which Mexico and the United States cooperated to import migrant labor from Mexico—the US provided the transportation, jobs and related benefits, and Mexico provided a ready supply of workers. Unfortunately this program turned out in reality to be a tool for the growers, with which they could keep the labor market sufficiently flooded to depress wage levels. This negative effect was felt most deeply by Mexican-American workers, who found themselves edged out of the market by their non-naturalized counterparts. Merle Wells notes, “bracero contracts had offered growers an option to replace domestic workers any time that union efforts might be made to improve migrant wages and conditions” (Wells, p. 69). This program was eventually discontinued in 1964, but was interrupted by a draconian backlash termed “Operation Wetback” in ’54 when the U.S. government, without due process, deported between 1 and 2 million immigrants in a matter of months (Gonzalez, p. 203).

As Gonzalez noted, the push-pull phenomena will only continue to compel Mexicans (and other Latinos) to el Norte (the North). An article from 1986 observes that “as risky as these crossings have become, the Mexican continues to view the United States as a sort of economic magnet where his financial travails will be alleviated. Tragically he will often face exploitation, discrimination, and risks to health and life. He is willing to suffer these…in an attempt to improve his lot and that of his family…”(Machado, p. 64).

Recent Immigration Issues: Proposition 187 and Minutemen
The last decade has seen a marked trend in public opinion against Latino immigration, particularly against Mexicans. The debate has focused on illegal immigrants, who have been viewed with particular suspicion in the years following 9.11.2001. In California voters passed proposition 187 which aimed to stem the flow of immigrants by denying undocumented individuals access to various social services, including health services and education for children. While this proposition later died in the courts, its passage at the ballot box has been seen as an indication of the shift in public perception.
More recently, several citizens groups have organized to take boarder patrol into their own hands. Groups like the Minuteman Project organize groups of individual civilians to patrol the U.S.-Mexico border and report illegals, as well as staging protests and petitioning governmental officials. The rhetoric of such groups tends towards the xenophobic and reactionary, nevertheless Jim Gilchrist, the founder the Minuteman group, recently garnered 25% of the vote in a special election for Orange County’s 48th congressional seat. Such recent events illustrate that there is a pressing need for the church to seek to understand Latino immigration.

Mexican Labor in California
Early on Mexican and Chicano workers played an important, albeit poorly paid, part in this profitable enterprise. Reisler quotes a 1930’s produce executive on the key role Mexican labor played in agriculture at that time: “Large-scale production would be impossible without Mexican field labor. Without the Mexicans costs would be increased 50 percent.” However, Chicanos were not always unskilled laborers. At the signing of the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848 there were very few Anglos living in California and Mexican ranchers owned most of the land. In 1849 the gold rush brought a flood of Anglo immigrants, who rapidly became the majority. The excellent online book Five Views: An Ethnic Historic Site Survey for California, published by the National Park Service, notes that as the fledgling state drafted laws Californios (pre-conquest Mexican Californians) repeatedly got the short end of the stick. The tax system disproportionately taxed land instead of production, which disadvantaged Californios who sought to continue their livelihood as ranchers. Most glaringly, the 1850’s “Foreign Miners Tax” classified Californios as foreign, even though the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo supposedly made them U.S. citizens.
As a result of these and other anti-Mexican laws and attitudes, Californios found themselves loosing their land, being forced out of their traditional trades, and relegated to unskilled or semi-skilled labor. The Park Service book concludes that, “Loss of land contributed heavily to relegation of Mexican Americans to the lower echelons of the California socio-economic system. The loss eroded their economic base, undermined their political power, and displaced ranchworkers. …Many found employment in railroads, construction, and food processing.” It is striking that Mexicans and Chicanos as a group are often associated with such labor to this day.
Movements to organize farm workers have a long history, beginning as early as 1928 with the Imperial Valley strike, however they did not gain much momentum until after the bracero program came to a close. In the wake of the Bracero program came efforts began to organize the migrant workers without governmental oversight, most notably Cesar Chaves and his United Farm Workers. Chaves’ Union lead strikes against California grape producers from 1965 through 1970, gaining contracts with the majority of wine and table grape producers. Such movements are still underway, most recently Taco Bell came to an agreement with their tomato suppliers that aimed to improve the lot of farm workers.

Chicano Movement
Mexican-Americans first began to organize groups to promote their causes and defend their rights early in the twentieth century. The first major group to form was the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) which provided legal support to Mexican Americans and fought for their rights. The Vietnam era and civil rights movements of the 60’s saw the development of a distinct Mexican-American self-identity, called the Chicano movement. The term Chicano is a truncation of mexicano, and in earlier eras was used as a derogatory term. The term was subverted and deconstructed by Mexican-American activists and has since been used to promote Mexican-American identity and culture, along with the term la raza (the people). In many ways Cesar Chavez became the spiritual leader of the movement, much like Martin Luther King Jr. lead the African-American struggle for civil rights. The Chicano movement has promoted Latino interests in politics as well as economic and social projects.

Cultural Implications of Latino History
The history of Latino’s in the United States, both as immigrants and as citizens, has profoundly effected the group as a culture. Thomas Weyr in the introduction to his book Hispanic U.S.A. notes that pessimism and despair have marked Latino culture (Weyr uses the term Hispanic). As a result of centuries of struggling up-hill against hostile structures and systems Latino culture, according to Weyr, has become skeptical and pessimistic about its future social and political prospects in this country.
However, there are other ways to read the effects of history on Latinos. Silvio Torres Saillant notes that one thing that unifies Latinos (an extremely diverse social group) is the common theme of oppression, inequality and exploitation in their histories. “We share the experience of being uprooted by large socioeconomic forces from our original homelands. We come from societies with a history of unequal association with the United States, a country that has influenced and sometimes even dictated political behavior in Latin America." Ultimately, both observations have a modicum of truth. Their often tragic and unjust history helps to define what it is to be Latino for good and ill.
Finally, some alarmists have noted the tenacity of the Spanish language and culture: whereas former immigrant groups have assimilated within the first few generations, Latino’s have maintained their cultural and linguistic differences over centuries. One writer suggests that Latino’s will be the immigrant group that “crack the melting pot”; because of the longevity and vitality of Latino culture, it poses a serious challenge to the hegemony of the dominant, Euro-American culture. Some have read this apocalyptically, however one might also suggest that Latino culture may pave the way for the U.S. to become truly pluralistic and multicultural by overturning the claim that “American” culture is essentially Anglo.
I would suggest that this cultural tenacity is a result of Latino history in the U.S. Latinos have lived here as long or longer than any Euro-American group, indeed Anglos were the immigrants in the mid-nineteenth century. Consequently, Latino’s are in many ways not immigrants and so there is no reason for them to “assimilate.” Furthermore, the Spanish language has serious ground on which to challenge the dominion of English, both in terms of history and breadth of usage. In short, there are serious grounds on which to challenge the concept that Latino’s are immigrants at all in the normal sense of the word. Perhaps Latino’s are outsiders and immigrants in concept only, and perhaps it is high time Euro-Americans abandoned this incorrect perception.

Response to Martinez on Individualism and self-perception

Part 1: Concepts
Dr. Martinez focuses this article on two aspects of the dominant conception of self in North American society, individualism and anti-structuralism. Western society since John Locke has tended to reify the individual and place “it” at the center of society. Concordantly, westerners tend to understand ethics, politics, self-identity etc. along individualistic terms and without reference to the social or relational sphere. For example, we define ourselves by our achievements, not our social bonds, and “moving out” serves as a primary marker of adulthood in our culture. Anti-structuralism is integrally related to individualism, and is the tendency of Euro-Americans to be unable to see structural issues, e.g. systematic racism or systems of global economic injustice. We tend to interpret problems on individualistic terms, and consequently our attempts to fix those problems tend to operate on the individual level rather than on larger, systematic levels. Martinez also notes that pragmatism also plays a significant role in our perception, causing us to be more interested in functionality than on ideals.

Part 2: Personal Reflection
A fairly common experience related to these issues is going off to college to live in a dorm and then returning to ones family for the summer break. I recall very distinctly the readjustment that would take place each time I came home for the summer—almost as a rule it took me about two weeks (often somewhat frustrating weeks) to slide back into my role at home. This experience (shared by most of my friends back in college) both illustrates the concept of western individualism while at the same time shows up tensions and contradictions within our culture. As a freshman I and many others were excited to “discover” a new sense of self, to be able to assert and form a unique identity away from home and our old social groups where we seem so rigidly defined. Yet invariably, come the end of finals, we found ourselves quickly entrenched in our “old” identity, showing that who we “really are” is not as easily separable from our social bonds. Identity it seems is formed out of the tension and conflict between self-perception (who I “really am” in adolescent parlance) and the social realm of roles, bonds and other’s perceptions rather than by individual assertion.
Part 3: Implications for Ministry
One of the difficulties facing us for ministry is the invisibility of foundational assumptions like individualism and anti-structuralism to those who hold them (often ourselves!). Yesterday I was looking over some material for a Sunday school class my father is teaching on marriage for young couples and noted that it did not directly address the issue of individualism, which underlies many of the problems and issues the material seeks to address. One of our challenges, then, is to better understand how our assumptions of individualism impact our lives and help our brothers and sisters see these more clearly. This is a potential benefit of multiethnic congregations, because the collision of worldviews can make our assumptions more apparent. In many of the churches I’ve been in perhaps the most immediate challenge is to disabuse white believers of their anti-structural assumptions, encouraging them to address the broken systems of our society.

Branson reading on Worldview

Branson provides us with a handful of concepts and terms to help us first recognize and then to navigate worldview differences. A worldview is that web of beliefs usually residing in the subconscious background that shapes how cultures and individuals see the nature, super-nature, human beings and time—it is something every culture has and each individual has, and in our society many worldviews coexist side by side. Branson introduces the concepts of lifeworld and world concepts from Habermas. A lifeworld is fairly similar to a worldview, something that is preconscious and usually not recognized by the people living in it. World concepts help to “problematize” the lifeworld, slowly bringing it into view. These world concepts fit into three different worlds, the objective world, subjective world, and the social (ethical) world. To achieve communicative competence, says Habermas, one must be able to address each of these worlds with integrity.

The most distinct interaction between radically different worldviews that I can recall was in my undergraduate Metaphysics class at Calvin College. One of my fellow students was from Indonesia, visiting on a one-year program the philosophy department ran for Asian students. In class he brought up cases of supernatural events, demon possession, hexes and so on that he very strongly believed he saw in the world. He said that he knew someone who had been turned into a pig by a witch-doctor, and also recounted a time of spiritual warfare (in the most literal sense) at the seminary where he taught back in Indonesia. “I could see the demons around our building, like a siege. We had to stop everything for a week to fast and pray.” Our professor was a materialist, but very much intrigued by these accounts and respectful of the students worldview, however neither he nor most of the rest of us students could really come to believe that such things happened. There are no categories for such events in our western, scientific worldview, but most of us had no doubt that our friend really did see these things.

This example only addresses the difference between worldviews, and doesn’t shed much light on navigating those differences, which is what Habermas and Branson want to encourage. In my Metaphysics class, we could set aside some of the urgency that such differences create and simply listen to the different accounts. At the end of the day we didn’t have to agree on some collective course of action. But imagine that the situation was a church meeting, where a significant portion of the congregation was Indonesian (or some culture with a similar worldview) and another significant portion was more scientific/western in their worldview. The Indonesians feel there is some form of demonic oppression and the church needs to fast and pray, but the westerners are completely baffled because they do not see or sense anything. In such a case it would be helpful to keep the three worlds of Habermas in mind, the objective, subjective and social. Assuming we are all receiving the same raw data, we might begin to address the issues of the objective world by seeking to articulate more clearly what we see and how we see it. This will be very difficult, because both the eastern and western groups will tend insist “don’t you just see/not see it?” But perhaps there are certain connections that are being made between different events and objects. If we can identify these we can begin to make sense of each other. We would also need to turn to scripture, to remind the westerners that most of the bible was written by people who had a worldview perhaps more similar to that of the Indonesians than the westerners; there are demons and witches in the biblical text. Finally, it would be helpful to have each group articulate their personal (subjective) concerns. The westerners may well be concerned that once you admit a demon in one place people will be “seeing” demons everywhere. But the Indonesians may be deeply concerned about ignoring the demonic because they have known people who were possessed by demons—they know the price of ignoring the warning signs. Such a discussion would be difficult, but might help this group begin to understand each other better, perhaps even see a little of the world through the lens of the other.

Culture, Family and Personality

Reflecting on the issue of culture has raised some questions for me about the limits of culture. Where does culture end and particular family traditions begin, and where does personality and personal choice come in?
Families (nuclear and/or extended) and individuals exist in cultures, which makes this a difficult question. Might it help to think of families and individuals as a nexus between cultures--for example if my father is Italian-American and my mother is Latina, my family traditions and practices will span both cultures. I heard an interview a year or so ago with a man who was born in India, grew up in an LA suburb, was educated in British boarding schools, and now lives and works in Japan. Is his culture simply "PoMo," or does the individual transcend culture itself? Does culture inevitably subsume the family and/or individual, or do both exist at once within culture but able to transcend it?
Reasons why families/individuals seem to be able to transcend culture in a limited sense:
Individuals and families can criticize their culture. If culture simply enveloped and determined families and individuals then there would be no means of development beyond interaction with other cultures. But it seems likely that even an isolated group of people constituting a culture (say, living on some island before the invention of radio, satilte, etc) would have various subcultures, and that these subcultures would originally develop because of personal differences. Perhaps this is completely wrong.
Is it possible that a small, isolated group of people could create a mono-culture that made personal or subcultural variation impossible?
Just some thoughts to throw out there for any of my classmates.

Response to Martinez readings

In his chapter on defining social relations Martinez provides some key areas of difference between Euro-American cultural assumptions and common assumptions from other cultures. The “myth of equality” Martinez argues blinds many Euro-Americans to the fundamental differences in privilege and status between different groups in North America. This creates a situation in which no-one in the dominant needs to overtly discriminate to perpetuate a system of inequality and injustice. Martinez also notes that white Americans tend to see problems in individualistic terms, rather than in terms of social system. The Euro-American concept of fair play further blinds white Americans to inequality because they assume the playing field to be level, the dice to be fair. But the dice are loaded, the game is rigged. Because they try to understand a rigged game in terms of fair play Euro-Americans assume that an individuals struggle to succeed is a matter of individual ability, not of social systems.

Gifts and social obligation are another potential area for miscommunication between Euro-Americans and people from other cultures. Euro-Americans tend to avoid social obligations and do not have a deep sense of reciprocity, of a gift obligating the recipient to respond with an appropriate gift. Similarly, many cultures assume social structures such as patronage which obligate wealthy or otherwise privileged members to help out those who are struggling. For example, a Korean-American student explained to me that in Korean culture, older students are expected to help out younger students, coaching them and giving them old class notes and so on. A Korean-American who has developed a more western mindset, in which obligatory social roles are avoided, might easily feel put upon by Korean students who expect to be helped out in this way.

Euro-American and other cultures also differ in how they understand friendship. Martinez notes that white Americans tend to view friendship as spontaneous, based on mutual affection, essentially something that is chosen. These relationships tend to be rather shallow in non-western terms, where friendship implies something more like mutual dependence. Similarly, Martinez notes that Euro-Americans tend to need to be liked. We take affirmation and acceptance as an indication that we are doing well, succeeding in whatever it is we are doing. However, in keeping with the Euro-American aversion to obligation, being liked does not imply reciprocation—it is something earned, and thus given upon merit rather than on the basis of social obligation.

A cultural difference with significant potential for misunderstanding is how Euro-Americans and other cultures deal with problem solving. Euro-Americans tend to be direct and confrontational, and easily appear rude and reckless to people from cultures with more indirect communication styles and problem solving strategies. Formality versus informality can also cause confusion. Euro-Americans tend to use informal communication in all situations, speaking to children, elders, pastors, employees and employers all alike. In some ways this communication is shallow, because it collapses all relationships into one mode of speaking it leaves no room for indicating both intimacy and deference.

Language and Non-Verbal Behavior

Martinez begins by noting that most white Americans have an essentially referential, or mechanistic, view of language—that is, they imagine that there is a direct relation between words or what is said, and what is meant. Another way of saying this might be that Euro-Americans tend to not speak, and therefore not read, between the lines.

Martinez notes the implication for intercultural communications of Whorf’s hypothesis, both strong and weak. The strong hypothesis is that language determines how we understand reality. On this view, if I don’t have a word for or a way of speaking about something then I cannot form a concept. The weak hypothesis is that language, thought and perception interact in a complex and dynamic relationship. This suggests to us that our language itself shapes how we understand reality, and therefore when people are speaking different languages (or, even if they speak the same “language” if they are speaking different dialects so to speak) they bring radically different concepts and categories to the table. Thus when looking at the same problem, two groups may “see” two entirely different things, and when one party “says” one thing, the other “hears” something entirely different. We cannot assume that what we mean to say is what gets conveyed to others, especially when they are from a different culture.

Grammar, notes Martinez, shapes how we think. For example, English uses a subject/predicate grammar that emphasizes fixed relationships between a subject and its properties, a certain polarization of reality, and cause/effect relationships. Similarly, how we conjugate structures how we think, and so American English speakers tend to be unaware of the social relations and personal intentions that Koreans have built into their language. The linguistic system American English speakers use does not have built in categories for these concepts, so Americans have difficulty even conceiving them in the first place.

Similarly, non-verbal cues do not play a large role in American English, and so Euro-Americans tend to be fairly illiterate when it comes to non-verbal communication. Martinez uses this to help explain the protestant aversion to iconography—because they tend not to “speak” symbolically, they have difficulty comprehending that icons communicate anything beyond idolatry.

American English does not easily recognize social distance. Many languages have different ways of addressing ones elders, social “betters,” religious or political leaders, and so on. By collapsing these diverse people and relationships into “I/you” English does not easily communicate familiarity verses polite distance, or respect, deference, etc. Similarly English is ill-suited for navigating relationships where there is a power differential. Thus the differences tend to go unrecognized, often with the result that communication breaks down.

Martinez finally applies these observations to the problem of ministry in a multilingual context. Biblical translators and missiology have long dealt with the tension between the belief that the gospel can be translated into any language or culture on the one hand and the reality that there is never a one to one correspondence between systems of meaning. This is further complicated by the fact that even while two groups may superficially seem to speak the same language, they may be using that language in very different ways. For example, an immigrant from India may speak fluent English, but is speaking Indian English, not American English.

revized cultural autobiography

WASP: White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. On the surface, this term, usually a pejorative, fairly well describes me. I am white, descended from immigrants from the British Isles, and my family on both sides has been protestant as far back as anyone now alive knows. To make maters worse I had the misfortune of being born with both an X and an Y chromosome, genetically predestining me to belong to one of the last remaining groups of true villains out there, white males. However, this term WASP, as with slurs in general, obscures more than it uncovers. Reality complicates stereotype.

Culturally and ethnically I know most about my fathers side of the family tree. As recently as my granddad’s generation the family was dirt-poor subsistence farmers from the remote regions of Alabama. Essentially “white niggers” the McWhirters fought on the “wrong” side in the war from the southern viewpoint. I recall also finding a reference to my great-grandmother’s side of the family, Beasely, in an exhibit about southerners in the Union army in a civil war memorial site in Georgia. Ironically this was a source of embarrassment for some later generations, who, steeped in the racist mindset of post-reconstruction Alabama, didn’t talk very loudly about their family’s involvement in the Union army. In my own time this heritage has been generally (though sometimes ambiguously) celebrated. My great-grandmother was mostly proud of it but a little reserved, later generations are far less reserved.

Growing up I was exposed to a lot of bluegrass, Appalachian and folk music, and have come to find these genres are a part of my culture and cultural self-perception. Songs about sharecroppers, coal miners, racial tensions and the people, good and bad, of the south were made a little more poignant knowing that my granddad more or less lived in the world of these songs. A lot of songs that have since become well known and popularized are ones that my great-grandmother, my granddad and great-aunts and uncles grew up with. For example, a few years ago I was playing the song “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” (a.k.a. In the Pines; brought to the MTV generation via Nirvana’s “Unplugged in New York” album) on my guitar. When I had finished the song my granddad remarked, “where’d you learn that song, Daniel? That song’s older than me.” I have grown up hearing, singing and playing such songs not merely as interesting relics or just “good music,” but as living stories, things that I myself am caught up in however distantly. Coal mining and lynching, wayfaring stranger’s traveling through a weary land; I’m mixed up in it all, and often see myself and the present facing me as a continuation of this past.

Songs are also an apt marker of my involvement in the church. Both my mother and father are musically inclined and have been involved in leading worship for the entirety of my existence. When I moved out and began college I quickly found myself also involved in leading worship. It has surprised me, since I have never felt called to music ministry and consider myself very much a dilettante in this area. Retrospecting, perhaps it is not that surprising—my mother and father before me valued music, hymns and instruments and that has rubbed of on me. As I have developed as a worship leader I find myself gravitating to the songs and melodies of my cultural history—“I’m just a poor wayfaring stranger”, “In the morning when I die, give me Jesus”, “Come thou fount of every blessing”, “What wondrous love is this, O my soul?” These are the words I have learned to worship in and the melodies my soul resonates with—Spirituals, Appalachian and Southern hymnody. Thus leading worship has made me more aware of my own cultural history.

Music has helped give me a sense of cultural grounding and depth; it has helped me be aware that I have a distinct culture as a genericly white, middling North American, and a cultural history goes deeper than the recent post-war, consumerist/capitalist sub-urban culture of immediate memory. Music is also one of the most basic ways a culture tells its story and records history and a look at the songs of my culture demonstrates its sketchy and soiled history. From the south come laments of slaves and stories of lynchings as well as of freedom and simple faith. Thus awareness of my ethnic history is bitter-sweet.

I have also been made more aware of my culture through interactions with people from different cultures. My parents are very hospitable, and growing up we had people in our house from literally all over the world. Some were missionaries and others were colleagues of my father who was a professor of Physics for the better half of my growing up years. I particularly remember some interactions with his Russian friend Eugene and his wife, Olga. When they first moved to the states my family helped them find a place to live and begin to make sense of North American life. I particularly remember Olga being utterly exasperated at the grocery stores here. In our “more is better” culture we have five brands for everything, and multiple varieties of everything, e.g. reduced fat, single-serving, extra-pulp, no-pulp, and so on. Olga exclaimed in frustration “I just want yogurt!” The variety of consumer-culture was overwhelming to her practical, Slavic mind, and her reaction helped open my families eyes to our own cultural reality.

Spending a week living with a family in former East Germany was similarly revealing. Many people are less than thrilled with the change from soviet-style communism to western consumerist capitalism. My host-mother remarked “vor der Wende war unsere Welt sicher, aber klein”—“before reunification our world was safe/certain, though small.” All dissidents and nonconformists are unspeakably happy with the change, but for those who were content to toe the party line and not make a fuss the change has been unsettling, even traumatic.

One can also become aware of one’s culture when one inadvertently transgresses against it or attempts to live against its grain. I most distinctly felt this form of learning when I mentioned to my father than my wife and I were thinking of moving to live with or near some close friends of ours when we are done at Fuller. The four of us did almost everything together in college and have all felt that it would be silly to not continue that relationship. My father simply couldn’t understand why we would try to hold onto a friendship like that. In his mind, beyond the nuclear family, you just have to be practical and move wherever life takes you. Since the chances of “life” taking both couples to the same city or even the same state are slim, to try to continue living together would be impractical. Furthermore, in his mind, this would likely interfere with “God’s plans.” My father didn’t advise us against it, but he simply couldn’t comprehend our reasons for thinking about it. My culture values the nuclear family, but also values mobility and a lack of social obligations. The nuclear family provides people with just the amount of social stability that most people need to stay sane while at the same time allowing for a reasonably mobile and transient population.

Such experiences have helped me begin to see myself and my situation. Without these experiences I would be at a loss to see myself—like a man without a mirror I could never see my face. Some of what I see concerns me: the consumerism, the pragmatic emphasis on mobility and nuclear family over all other claims, and so on. With the help of this mirror I am trying to transgress these boundaries, to begin to think (and more importantly, live) differently, and to some extent I am succeeding. Other aspects of my cultural heritage I have found new respect for by looking at them in this mirror. To return to a musical example, I find the theme of “wayfaring stranger” or “pilgrim” imagery in American folk music and folk hymns quite powerful. It reminds me that longing can be a good thing, not merely something to be sated through consumerist consumption. It also humbles me, reminding me that I need something beyond myself and my world.

"Whom you would change you must first love..." MLK

the following is an article I wrote a year ago for the Calvin College Chimes, the student newspaper for Calvin College where I did my undergrad. The quote from Dr. King, "whom you would change you must first love" has come to my mind often when thinking about multicultural issues. DSM
Moving forward, not drawing back
As MLK said, “Whom you would change you must first love”
By Daniel McWhirter
Staff Writer

Individualistic, consumerist, ignorant, loud: if you think, “America,” or “American,” when you read this string of adjectives, then you are not alone on this campus.

In my first class of the semester our professor had us break into groups and come up with adjectives for Latin America. The professor then had us repeat the exercise with the United States in mind. Tellingly, every single adjective that was written on the board under “America” was negative, the adjectives I’ve strung above in an attempt to catch your eye being a representative sample. Lest you suspect that I managed to work my way into the only all-Canadian class on campus, let me assure you: most of us in the room were U.S. citizens. Neither was this experience, nor the perceptions behind it, an anomaly: there is a growing sense of discontent and frustration among students with their own culture. Whether it be a reaction to the cavalier foreign policy of the present administration, or a recognition of the bankruptcy of consumer culture, the number of dissidents is growing. And more power to them, I say.

However, this growing attitude of discontent and frustration, of criticism, too often takes a nasty turn that unsettles me. I will not call it cynicism. That adjective has been rendered trite by over-use and seems to miss the mark anyway. It is something akin to arrogance, mixed in with a bit of spite — a lack of love and concern.

Not only do we criticize our culture, but we too often fail to love it in the first place, to see something worth changing for the better, something worth saving. I’ve heard it said that Martin Luther King, Jr. admonished, “Whom you would change you must first love” — wise and true words that hold for both individuals and larger institutions.

To be able to see the ill in us — the broken institutions and malignant attitudes and habits — is imperative. Yet to operate on our cancerous body we must first know what it is we are saving, what to excise and what to nurse to health. To simply draw back in disgust at the sick and disfigured form of the diseased — to leave it to rot — is an attitude both selfish and unloving; an attitude all the more duplicitous in this situation as it is we ourselves who need healing.

Disgust at a culture, even one’s own, is never a virtue; rather it betrays a lack of love on the part of the beholder. The wrongs in the world are what they are, not because they are ugly in themselves, but because they mar what is good. Sin and brokenness in our culture and in ourselves is a tragic desecration of God’s creation and should cause us to lament and repent. However, revulsion, contempt, disgust — these are false responses to the desecration, steeped in evil themselves. They hypocritically stand over the broken and fallen and sneer — curse the broken for their disfigured forms without acknowledging their own culpability. Even God himself, who could truly stand apart from the refuse heap of our situation in shock and horror, chose instead to come down to us and soil himself with our flesh. Following his example, the wrong in our culture and in ourselves ought to sadden us, moving us ultimately to compassion and service.

Individualism, consumerism, ignorance; these are aspects of our cancer, and the healing of these sins is our task as Christians. Were we not in 21st Century America, we would have other ills to lament, repent and heal, however this is our task. That we recognize the ills in ourselves is the first step, and we should be moved to lamentation and repentance. But let us keep disgust and contempt far from us.

© 2004-2005 Calvin College Chimes - All Rights Reserved.

Response to Martinez and Branson

Dr. Martinez seeks to equip the reader with cultural tools to better enable the reader to interact with cultures. These tools are specifically dialogical, or two-way—re-reading history, telling stories, and being a multicultural church all seek to both speak and to listen. Historically we have seen the damage that can happen when we as a church lack the tools or fail to use them, for example when missionaries seek to “civilize” cultures or conversely when syncretism has eroded the church in particular contexts. My wife and I attend a mostly African-American church and I have noticed a few times when, because our different cultures have different views of social relations, self, world and so on I risk offending or being offended when no offence is intended. There are a range of responses that I have not yet learned: am I supposed to laugh at that or take it seriously? How do I express appreciation, or thankfulness? These things are fairly basic, yet while we live in the same neighborhood and same country and speak a roughly equivalent language I stumble sometimes. I am learning.

Dr. Branson’s concept of Praxis is illustrative here. As I have engaged with this community I move back and fourth between observation, experimentation, and returning to observation to further modify my concepts. I observe that I seem to have accidentally missed a social cue here and mildly offended a sister. This prompts me to consider the situation more closely, and to subsequently re-engage the community with some new thoughts and categories.

Branson describes the relationship between society, culture, community and individual well. Society is the most macro, with many cultures living and interacting together within a society. Branson’s addition of community I find particularly helpful because it provides a bridge between the individual to a concrete group of other individuals and not just a large, generic collection of people such as a culture. It is at the level of community that I belong to other, particular people. I may inhabit many cultures partially, but this does not include any relationship to particular persons. It may be possible to inhabit more than one community, though Branson’s rigorous criteria for community make that less likely. What is important, however, is that at the community level I, Daniel McWhirter, come into contact with a collective group that has particular faces. Daniel McWhirter as participant in consumer culture, or the culture of academic humanities does not have any necessary relationship with other distinct individuals. What defines my involvement in culture is not who I am related to. However, on the level of community, there is no way to define my involvement apart from other particular people and groups of people (e.g. particular families, circles of friends). The addition of communities to our framework for understanding social structures helps to ground the individual in a concrete group rather than the impersonal sea of culture, which is faceless.

Reflections on Takaki Reading, pp. 153-353

Cultures placed together, or nested within each other, invariably cause tension, particularly between the generations of ethnic minorities. It struck me that many things that may be strengths in one culture become points of conflict when that culture is transplanted into a new context and becomes a minority. This came up most clearly with the account of Italian immigrants—the rigid, disciplined, family-oriented culture of the old country conflicted with the dominant culture in America. In many ways we can admire the Italian culture: Joanna Dorio notes how her father was the family “godfather,” which, while patriarchal, also displays a marked devotion to the larger family. The family together took care of each other, including the single aunt and the financially failed brother. In some ways this was only possible because of the patriarchal/disciplinarian culture of the home that caused tension between Joanna and her father.

While I react to the chauvinism of the culture, there is something in the Italian culture that I respect in the way the family feels responsible for taking care of each other. My wife and I were discussing several of the readings from this section together. Bethany noted that just as an individuals greatest strength can also contribute to ones greatest weakness, particular cultures are often strong and weak in the same area, both admirable and questionable. For example, compare determined/stubborn in an individual to collectivist/authoritarian in a culture.

To what extent is the chauvinism of Italian culture problematic in its own right? In the old country the traditional method of family life would work without hitches beyond those that any family anywhere at any time experience; it seems that it is only in conjunction with American individualism and the culture of the nuclear family/atomist individual that the tensions arise in this family. It seems to me, though I may well be wrong, that the Italian culture, as described by Joanna, while patriarchal is not patriarchal in the same sense as described by Shanti, the immigrant from India. Is there something more problematic about traditional Indian culture and its treatment of women? Is traditional Italian culture less problematic, until it comes into conflict with enlightenment liberalism?

How (not) To Argue Against Diversity

During the first or second class session for Ethnicities and Churches we were asked the question “what might constitute present systematic racism here at Fuller Seminary?” Something about many of the initial responses put red flags up for me: “language,” “teaching styles,” “academic expectations.” I reacted to some of these, and proceeded to reflect on why I found these answers problematic.

Such answers are far too open-ended and broad, to begin with. This in itself is no great moral failing. When put on the spot we students cannot be expected to consistently come up with careful, brilliantly crafted answers. However, it is bothersome to me that when asked to identify areas of racism students quickly picked up on areas of cultural particularity, labeling them “bad.” This combined with the broad nature of the answers is problematic because it seems to make cultural particularity itself evil. The evil of racism, classism, and ethnocentrism is not that one group is different from another, but that this difference is either believed to make ones group better than others or is used as a weapon against other groups. Thus, the fact that it will be difficult to get along in most US cities without a grasp of the English language is not by itself racist. It would be absurd for me to feel oppressed living or visiting Argentina simply because I did not speak Spanish and everyone else there did. However, that the United States recognizes only English as an “official language” is a good example of systematic racism, particularly in the South-West where Spanish is both widely spoken and is historically part of the culture.

My root concern is that when we simply identify difference, particularity or the inherent difficulty of cross-cultural communication as evil we miss the point entirely and are dangerously close to denouncing difference or diversity itself as evil or lamentable. We need to carefully distinguish between simple cultural particularity and diseased forms, expressions or uses of culture. We need to be wary of confusing the difficulty of cross-cultural communication with evil and corruption.

An anecdote may illustrate this. When I visited Germany a year ago, the most difficult period of time was our stay in former East-Germany. We (my fellow students and I) were all housed with different German families for a few days and spent almost all of our time with our host families. Culturally there was a far greater difference between us and the East-Germans than between us and the Western Germans we had been staying with a week before. It was the first time in Germany that I really felt “yes, this is culture shock.” But that week was the most rewarding and moving week of my whole month in the country, and I came to feel a greater sympathy with my east German acquaintances than I did with the West Germans. Some of the other students on the trip absolutely hated the time in East Germany and wanted to leave as soon as possible. Many of them framed their feelings in moral/spiritual terms, they just “felt oppressed” in this city, and so on. I cannot speak for them, but I did wonder if these students mistakenly construed the difficulty of communicating and identifying with the East Germans as bad and oppressive.

Takaki Reflections, pp. 50-150

reflections on Takaki pp. 50-150

The reflections of Frederick Douglas (“Don’t Give a Nigger an Inch”) and Millie Evans (“The Best Mistress and Master in the World”) are an interesting, almost contradictory juxtaposition. Fredrick Douglas brilliantly recognized that participation in oppression corrupts good character, noting how Mrs. Auld changed over time and internalized the framework of slavery, including its injustice, as she participated in the practice of owning slaves. Treating another human being as less than human, concludes Douglas, poisons and subverts an individual’s moral sense. On the other hand, Millie Evans portrays two slave holders who are more or less good people. My intuition is that we, as enlightened, post-moderns living more than a century after the civil war will readily interpret Ms. Evans memoir as idealistic and romanticized—it wasn’t really that good, we conclude. However, I do not think this gives a fair reading to either history or to Millie Evans. In all probability there were “good” salve owners, people who participated in a system of oppression yet were well intentioned and strove to be morally upright people.

We tend to be absolutist in our reading of history, demonizing and villainizing individuals in the past who held beliefs and/or practices that are unusual, shocking or worse to us as twenty-first century westerners or easterners. This is problematic because history is made up of both good and bad characters, just as our world today. An absolutist reading of history is as uncharitable as damning a foreign culture and labeling it “immoral,” “uncivilized” or “heathen” merely because it is different from our own. Such an absolutist mindset simultaneously overlooks the sin and filth within ourselves and our particular culture and is closed off to challenge from an other culture (historic or contemporary), seeing good in others only when they resemble oneself.

Now, do I mean to beatify and defend Millie’s owners? No. My point is rather to neither demonize nor canonize, to complicate our understanding of cultural “others” be they contemporary or from a different period in history. History and the present world is full of individuals who are neither mere minions of Satan nor walk-on-water saints. Such a duelist framework that sorts humanity into two camps, one run by Hitler and the other by Mother Theresa, is simply inadequate, as Millie’s account reminds us. Her owners participated, wittingly or not, in a system of oppression and exploitation—yet we cannot simply conclude that they were calculating, despicable people bent on creating as much misery and destruction as they possibly could because they are portrayed as actually caring for other people, treating individuals that their culture deems sub-human as something more than mere work animals. We might reasonably conclude that the owners and operators of peon-camps (described by a former inmate on pp. 102-111) were simply horrid, corrupt individuals who intentionally sought to maximize their own gain on the backs of others—these individuals strike me as more or less in the same camp as Nazi SS officers who flayed prisoners and kept their skins preserved like animal hides, making lampshades out of human hide. However Millie’s account presents us with strikingly different characters from whom I cannot simply draw back in revulsion. Rather, what these characters from a different time and a different culture do is cause me to wonder how like them I really am. What systems of oppression do I, and everyone around me, participate in unwitting or half-wittingly? What do I do or condone that will be looked on with horror by some future other? It is easy to point to one or another contemporary issue, sweatshops for example, but these are things we are remotely aware of—what might there be within each of us that we cannot even see that condemns us, along with Millie’s owners?