I'm so glad for the meek

As Michael Stipe sang:

“I can't say that I love Jesus
that would be a hollow claim.
He did make some observations
and I'm quoting them today.”

One quote that stuck with me from childhood was “the meek… shall inherit the Earth”. I seem to remember that this was not a prophecy, as such, in the mind of our teachers. How, they reasoned, would the meek take control if they were, well, meek. The only possible explanation was that old JC didn’t mean it literally, more that they were yet another of the bless-ed crowd.

Meek, after all, means courteous, kind, merciful, indulgent, or not violent or strong, mild. How can these attributes gain you any territory or win you any elections?

Even allowing for mis-translation and shifting meanings, this is only one of His pronouncements that are often sidelined, ignored or re-interpreted. The teachings of Jesus form part of a pan-Eurasian heritage of religious thought that commonly advocates non-violence and fair-to-generous treatment of others.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” is karmic in its effect. The common Western belief that karma is what ensures that what goes around comes around, is less accurate than the directive that to do right by others is simply the right thing to do.

But the role of the meek is both more complex than “do unto others…” yet more simple than my teachers made out. If anything, it encapsulates everything I’ve been trying to say in this blog in a single phrase. Violence is counter-productive and can only destroy. Those who practice humble non-violence will ultimately triumph. (Triumph isn’t exactly the right word, however, since this is the antithesis of will-to-power.)

It’s my limited belief that it was the co-option of Christianity as a state religion, first by Constantine, and then by other opportunist kings and emperors, that ensured its general decline as a radical force for peace and equality. To align a religion with nationalist sentiment, it must be stripped of anti-authoritarian ideals and skewed to show a preference for one group over another. The course of Christianity has been perverted through Late Roman, Crusading, Conquering and warring times.

The most extreme neutering of the Christian ideal was arguably the silencing and partial co-option of the Catholic Church in Nazi Germany. No religion built on non-conformity and peace could have been cowed in that way.

Incidentally, Gandhi’s opinion on what should be done about the Nazis--that the German people and all those affected should have stood up against them non-violently, both in opposition and to demonstrate how ruthless the Nazis were--is considered one of his most ridiculous ideas. But ridiculous though using non-violence against those capable of genocide might seem, and courageous beyond almost all belief that it would have been, it might have saved the world from the horrors partially covered by war.

With all I’ve said already, I must note that something of the pre-Constantine religion has lived on: in various “heretical” sects; in rebellious priests and preachers; and in groups such as the Quakers and Mennonites.

I can’t say that I love Jesus, but he did make some exceedingly good observations.

The local migrant

Green politics is all about the local. By which, I don’t mean just the pub, but everything that goes into a strong, positive community: from the basics of housing, food and education to the less tangibles of trust, belonging and sharing. In describing these things and how to achieve them, it is often implicit that this is a long-term, geographically rooted programme.

Well, it is. So where do migrants fit in the picture?

Let’s be clear: a migrant is anyone who moves from one local community to another, whether they do that regularly or just once in their lives, and whether they do that across the globe or between neighbouring villages. Not all (maybe hardly any) problems of migration are directly related to international movements, and it makes no difference what the motivations for moving are.

I write this as a migrant myself. I have not worked in my country of birth since I first left university. I have moved about once every two years in the last twenty, usually from one community to another and twice between continents. I did so out of what I would claim was necessity, to work or to affordable accommodation. And I’m far from exceptional.

There are some things we migrants can do easily: we can shop locally and take an interest in local affairs, wherever we are. We can also take over responsibility for our garden, join community groups that we find appealing and volunteer to help in local projects. From the beginning, we can bring an attitude of openness and experience of projects in other locales.

We can be the nomadic local, joining in wherever we go.

I’m not going to discourage anyone from being nomadic. It has its rewards: we understand what we all have in common and what makes one place unique compared to any other. Most positively of all, the local nomads can bring a cosmopolitan open-mindedness with them to counteract any insular tendencies.

Of course, sensitivity isn’t a guaranteed characteristic of the migrant, and I’ve known plenty incomers that have little respect for indigenous culture, import goods rather than try the local alternative, or generally annoy their new neighbours with brashness or insularity.

Then there are the elements of community that nomads can never bring, particularly continuity of experience and long-term commitment. Communities need continuity because there are elements of the community (mainly its spirit) that take time to develop. A place where people are only passing through is never much more than the sum of its parts (although hostellers know that even a little goes a long way).

In other words, a community is more than just a place or a group of people. A “hood” or “manor” has a reputation, its pubs and shops have a reputation and an atmosphere, and it has a direction. Plans for the development of social housing, schools, doctors and dentists take long-term commitment.

Individuals within the community have to invest years, often decades, of their lives to the institutions that reflect community will: teachers, doctors, councillors, police officers, residents’ association officers, etc.

If both migrants and locals have an important part to play in the community, there must be a sensible balance between them. It might be interesting to find indicators of community cohesion and positivity, measure them and compare communities with different amounts of resident “churn”. I suspect that getting a sensible mix is not particularly difficult and that the optimum will depend on many factors, including the cultures involved.

Which leaves us with the extreme communities: entirely local or overwhelmingly migrant. Are mono-cultural communities too slow-changing to be sustainable, and are they inherently xenophobic? And how much migration is too much migration?

These are questions that deserve a large space of their own.