Among the unending stream of political memes that slide through my Facebook newsfeed, a couple of quotes by Elie Wiesel repeatedly jump out and give me pause:
We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.
And:
There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.
As someone who barely survived the Nazi death camps, who lost his entire family to the depravity of the Holocaust, Mr. Wiesel speaks with far more authority than most on the moral obligation of citizens to stand against oppression, to stand up for justice and truth.
His words sound as a militant call to speak on behalf of the vulnerable, the weak, the suffering. They sound as a plea for zero tolerance of abuse. They sound as a condemnation of any who would look away. They sound as a call to outrage.
I’ll be honest.
I cower from the magnitude of Mr. Wiesel’s ask. Given how chronically imperfect our world is, given the opportunities that abound for individuals and groups to harm and exploit others, and given the endless deluge of information daily made possible by media and technology, I just don’t take him literally. I can’t.
I literally do not have the space in my head, nor the energy in my heart, to always take sides, to never fail to protest. Not if I still want to function. No matter how sincerely I might wish to be a person so moved by injustice that I protest every incidence I learn of, I simply cannot launch myself into that ocean. I would drown in a sea of sorrow and anger. I would be swamped by despair. I would fail everyone around me.
And I don’t think I’m alone in that.
Many years ago I started reading Steven R. Covey’s book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Families, and one of his concepts that stuck with me is that every person has their own Circle of Concern and Circle of Influence.
Pictured as a kind of Venn diagram, one’s Circle of Concern is a large circle in the middle of which is a smaller Circle of Influence. Each of us stands in the very center of the two. The wide Circle of Concern surrounding us is everything we care about in the world. Our smaller Circle of Influence, on the other hand, holds everything we have the ability to impact. This includes our relationships, roles in our families and communities, our work life, our values, priorities, and our attitudes.
At the time Covey was writing, the global reach of the internet was only just beginning to accelerate and social media did not yet exist to inundate us with the problems of our world. But even so, he accurately noted that our Circle of Concern is naturally much larger than our Circle of Influence because we are able to know and care about many more people, events, and issues than we are able to touch with our words, actions, and resources.
Social media can magnify the tendency, but it’s a feature of our human nature that we easily get caught up in our Circle of Concern, distracted by the myriad problems outside of our control at the expense of our attention to situations we actually can impact — that range of possibilities within our personal Circle of Influence.
However, we can choose our mental space.
These days it seems like all roads lead to mindfulness, and I think this is no exception. For it’s a basic truth of human experience that whatever we focus attention on expands. Also, our energy follows our attention, so when our attention is split, our energy splits; when our attention is focused, our energy stays focused.
This means when we are only half present to the moment, our minds keep our energy divided, directed to concerns beyond our immediate reach. Our personal influence in the world weakens to the degree we are distracted by our thoughts from what is happening right in front of us.
However, when we maintain our awareness in the present moment, our influence expands because the fullness of our energy follows the fullness of our attention. When we keep ourselves tuned in, totally present to the people, activity, or task immediately before us, we respond more thoughtfully, and so more effectually.
Covey points out that it’s easy to tell which circle we’re operating in by noticing the words we‘re using. He observes that when we are stuck in our Circle of Concern our language is reactive — accusatory, blaming, complaining; it’s all about what is “wrong” with others/the situation/the world. When we are immersed in our Circle of Influence our language becomes proactive, reflecting our recognition of ways we can help — our “response-ability,” as he puts it; it’s all about our personal or potential contribution to the situation.
Another helpful way of approaching this, which I found in the teachings of Pema Chödrön, is to notice the story we are telling ourselves, and to let it go.
This is useful because when we are caught up in our Circle of Concern, we often react in the moment from an unconscious narrative inspired by fears about the future or regrets about the past. When we are centered in our Circle of Influence we are not reacting to any story, but are anchored in the present moment through our mindful focus on whatever’s going on in front of us.
Indeed, waking up to the narrative going on in our head is key because it allows our energy to shift out of our Circle of Concern and into our Circle of Influence. Mindfulness provides for this shift because when we notice our thoughts we automatically enter into an open mental space…a pause, a literal breath…where we can choose to change our mental course.
I’ve seen how this works in my life as a mother.
There was time when I felt consumed by discouragement about the lack of harmony in our home. I held a story in my head of a perfect family…peaceful, relaxed, connected…and I wanted that to be us. I wanted an end to arguments and unkind words; I wanted our home overflowing with warmth, happy laughter, and cooperation.
I was so attached to this picture of who I thought we should be that when disputes arose or mean things were said, frustration would well up in me over how far we were from my perfect vision. Then I’d react — with chastising, blaming, shaming. My thoughts were so caught up in my story, my energy so mired in my Circle of Concern about how everyone around me “should” be acting, that I would lash out with impatience and acrimony…and compound the problem.
But things began to shift when I started practicing mindfulness.
By learning to check in with my thoughts, to see that I was caught up in a story, I discovered that open space where I could pause and breathe and make a choice to let go of the narrative…which shifted me into awareness of my response-ability. Redirecting my attention allowed my alternatives in the moment to come into focus: my tone of voice, my posture, words that might relax tension, possible solutions to the conflict, opportunities to stay silent. Becoming present to the moment allowed me to respond effectually to the reality, rather than reflexively — and ineffectually — to a fairytale.
Of course, my progress was not sustained like flipping a light switch, flooding a room with light. But every time I approached a difficult moment mindfully, I felt my eyes opening to a more productive direction for my energy. Through the practice of noticing and dropping the storyline in my head, I began to drop my fears, judgment, and stifling certainty about the situation, the people, the outcomes. I shifted into a more flexible, loving space where understanding and connection actually became possible. The path started clearing towards healing and peace.
So what does this have to do with moral outrage?
I see moral outrage as primarily a constituent of our Circle of Concern. This is not to say it can’t exist within our Circle of Influence and move us to act: as a natural human impulse I’d argue that’s its primary value — to forestall complacency, focus our energy, fuel our effort to right wrongs.
Which makes it a crucial force to promote a just and well-ordered society.
Moral outrage is not unhealthy.
But employed as a fuel supply, moral outrage operates like any other: too much, poorly placed or improperly managed, burns out of control and does damage.
Living as we now do in a world where technology connects us 24/7/365 to events and people around the globe, our awareness of injustice and suffering is virtually limitless, the fodder for moral outrage never-ending. This means our Circle of Concern has the capacity to expand on a daily basis. To the extent it grows and consumes our attention, it will misdirect our energy.
And our Circle of Influence will diminish as everything inside it suffers for lack of focus.
Of course, the point is not that we should never bother ourselves with any concern that exists outside of our clear personal reach. Because even when a cause is too remote or large for us to individually, definitively impact, we still can choose to bring it into our Circle of Influence by adding our energy to it in small ways that, in aggregate with other people’s efforts, might help to raise awareness, help to make a difference.
Even beyond that, noticing and caring about the wider world around us can make us better people. Becoming aware of how others are suffering, of the deep truth that “hurt people hurt people,” can soften us, make us kinder and more compassionate if we use that awareness to cultivate perspective and empathy for other people’s struggles…to become less self-absorbed and less hurtful ourselves.
One of the most powerful realizations I’ve gained from Pema Chödrön’s wisdom is that the single, most effective way I can contribute to peace in our world is by not adding to the aggression. This means remaining centered in my Circle of Influence where I can practice pausing often, breathing patiently, listening curiously, rephrasing kindly, apologizing sincerely, forgiving generously, offering the benefit of the doubt habitually.
Every single day, indeed each moment, brings us opportunities to live in this world as the change we’d like to see. But it requires us continually waking up to our energy and where it is centered. Are we ensnared in our Circle of Concern, in a churning state of outrage and disquiet, of helpless indignation and distraction? Or are we anchored in our Circle of Influence, tuned in to the present moment and its opportunity to add our light and warmth — the energy of love — to the people and situations immediately at hand?
I choose to embrace to Elie Wiesel’s call to always take sides and never fail to protest not as a literal admonition, but as an inspiring plea to notice the world outside of my own comfort and to live with awareness and compassion for the suffering of others.
I choose to respond to his call, not by dismissing it as unworkable, but by committing to notice the direction and impact of my personal energy: the ways I am contributing to the peace — or compounding the aggression — in our world.
Even if his literal ask is too much to realistically manage, we can uphold it in spirit through our efforts to continually return to the moment, speaking and acting with thoughtful intention. We can hear his words as a wake up call to become instruments of peace and justice within our own, expanding, circles of influence.
Originally published at https://bymyreckoning.com.
