A Friendly Letter, The Blog.

I’m increasingly troubled by the repetition of anti-institutional slogans in what is sometimes called “emergent” Quaker circles and conversations. Much of this, in my reading, consists of about one per cent of insight, that’s being puffed up like a bit of rubber into a big-looking balloon of empty hot air.

Some of this talk comes from younger Friends, who appear uneasy facing the seemingly endless array (or dead weight) of Quaker institutions. (”Institution” here refers to an organization which has existed for at least 40 years; it will often, but not always, have paid staff.)

Young adult Friends are entitled to feel nervous about all this alphabet soup, which constitutes perforce “The Quaker Establishment” (even if its gray-haired stewards still secretly think of ourselves as the radicals we thought we were forty-plus years ago). Such initial discomfort is part of growing up.

Further, among these younger Friends there may be (and if my prayers are answered there will be) some few who have the vision and gumption to push past us Geezers in Grey and turn their unease into something new and exciting, which can make its mark — and likely endure until its founders join our weathered ranks.

However, many of these complaints are distressingly vague and generalized, dissing “Quaker institutions” in general or as a body. And here is where I start to have trouble with them, for some specific reasons:

First, such generalized complaints are likely to be as false as they are true. That’s because actual “Quaker Institutions” in the real world are not all bad — and in any case they are unavoidable.

Consider: the fact that any of us today can be having this conversation is due in very large measure to Quaker institutions which have preserved and transmitted to us the basics of Quaker history and documents which are the basis for our arguments about them. Like it or lump it, there it is.

A not-so humble example: John Woolman’s Journal is close to holy writ for many Friends, myself not least. But we are able to have a clear view of what Woolman wrote ONLY because of the dedicated labor of an institution called the Friends Historical Library, on the campus of Swarthmore College in PA, where the original hand-written copy thereof has been lovingly preserved.

(I have seen this Quaker Holy Grail on several occasions, even come close enough to make out the handwriting on the small, Ipod-size brown pages, hand-sewn with thick thread. I’ve never actually touched it, of course; but then, I am not worthy).

The late scholar Phillips Moulton, however, was worthy to touch this book, and he spent long labor at this library scraping away the editorial alterations, euphemizations, and general mucking up of the Journal by its presumably well-intentioned editors of days gone by. As a result, we now can read all of what Woolman really wrote. And argue about it.

The same goes for lots of other Quaker bodies. The mere fact that Quakerism has survived for 360 years, as small a group as we are, is the legacy of its institutions. This fact hardly exempts them from criticism (more on that presently), but it pokes a big needle into the balloon of generalized anti-institutional posturing.

Besides the Friends Historical Library, there are numerous other Quaker institutions that have done similar good or even great service.

And now I hear the splutters , “But, but, I wasn’t talking about those institutions. . . .”

Right. So, which ones WERE you talking about?

The question points up a twofold shortcoming of generalized anti-institutional sloganeering: on the one hand, it exhibits lazy, sloppy thinking, a readiness to repeat a meme rather than do some actual hard analysis and diagnosis.

That’s bad enough; the habit of sloppy thinking by Quakers about Quakerism is widely entrenched, but needs to be named and challenged.

And on the other hand, there’s an even more unhappy Quaker habit in evidence here: passive aggression masquerading as conflict avoidance.

In the anti-institutional screeds I have read, where I know enough about the context to make an educated guess, I am morally certain that the writers were not really speaking ill of ALL Quaker institutions, but only some, a specific set with which they have issues or grievances. Yet they lack the wherewithal to name names, and take any resulting heat. So they hide behind the sweeping generalization.

That will not do, Friends. It is unworthy. Also unhelpful.

For such discussion to become serviceable, we need those involved to undertake some Quaker triage:

That is, to make up three lists of Quaker institutions

List A includes those we think are good, worth keeping and strengthening;

On List B go those bodies which are pernicious, outdated, useless, or otherwise need to be laid down; and:

List C will name those institutions which are a mixed bag: partly useful, partly not, but which could be reformed and made worth keeping.

Now, praise is cheap and popular, so populating List A should be relatively easy. The real labor here will come in connection with lists B and C: for them to be useful, and their authors responsible, they will be ready to explain WHY a particular institution needs to be laid down (List B), and not only why but HOW some other institution, currently in a mess, can be salvaged (List C).

(Meanwhile, the real innovators can skip all this and get busy creating their exciting new Quaker institutions. Yet if in the process they are to escape some of the errors of The Old Quaker Establishment, they will be well-advised to make a close study of how those fading groups on List B ended up there.)

The real innovators are usually few in number, though. So the triage process will be the more likely one for most of us. And it comes with hazards, which may be why many avoid it:

For one thing, it requires some actual knowledge to be able to say, credibly: “Organization X belongs on List B, bound for Quakerism’s trash heap.” And then, having said it, to brave the likely wrath of organization X’s defenders and beneficiaries. The former process involves work, serious study and analysis; the latter takes courage and perseverance. (Been there and done that, BTW.)

And List C is no easier. To tell Organization Y it is a mess, but if it repents and changes it ways it may yet be saved, not only can require fortitude. One runs the further risk that — OMG — the criticism might be accepted — and then you’ll be expected to pitch in and help bring about the needed reforms. WTF–more work!

It is easy to understand, in light of this, the temptation to simply float, and take refuge in vague potshots about those yukky “Quaker institutions,” or spiritual-sounding rants about how God wants us to step forward boldly into the future, yada yada.

There was a burger commercial of the last century that built a cult following (er, excuse me, “went viral”) around the slogan, “Where’s the beef?” shouted belligerently by an old lady

Doubtless today’s counterpart YouTube video would ask, “Where’s the tofu?”

Either way, I repeat the question to those complaining about “Quaker institutions”: You say you don’t like the ones we geezers are passing on?

Fine. Then do the homework, name names, take the heat, and either ditch the terminal ones, help fix the salvageable ones, or go out and start some better new ones.

My prayers go with you in all those options.

But spare me the blowing of balloons of vague unfocused complaining. That’s just playing; and I’ve got work to do.

“When it comes to revolutionaries, only trust the sad ones. The enthusiastic ones are the oppressors of tomorrow – or else they are only kidding.”

– Peter Berger

Okay, this is not on my usual beat, and has only a very indirect connection with Quakerism.

But here’s the deal: Because of my work at Quaker House, involving GI counseling and jousting with the Demon of War, I subscribe to Army Times, a weekly dealing with — well, you can guess.

And in the Feb 1 issue of Army Times, there’s a feature section called “Off Duty,” in which there’s an article about how punk rock is getting on the bandwagon we’re been pushing ever since I got here in 2002. Namely the one that says YES to the troops while standing fast with NO to the wars.

Now all this is big news to me, for a couple reasons, including 1) I could never understand the lyrics, if that’s the right word, of punk songs; and 2) I only listened to that stuff when my beloved son, now almost 30, seized control of my car’s CD/tape player, Back in His Day (not to be confused with that golden age, Back in THE Day).

But every little step helps, so if it’s good enough for Army Times and their readers, it okay by me.

And it’s worth quoting here, at some length. (You can’t really read it online unless you’re a subscriber.)

New generation of musicians shows support for military, but retains anti-war tradition
By Matt Schild

Punk rock used to be so nice, reli­able and predictable.

For decades, its almost religious suspicion of the military-industri­al complex was one of a handful of notions upon which its followers could agree.

Now, after 30 years ― the last nine with overseas military action ― the genre’s latest generation of movers and shakers are abandoning the traditional black-and-white opposition to all things military to fine-tune their criticism.

You’ll still be hard-pressed to find a gang of three-chord warriors who’ll be scheduling a tour stop at the Pentagon, but punk’s icy relationship with service members has thawed considerably in the past decade. Grizzled veterans such as Henry Rollins and The Vandals broke with expectations to perform in Iraq and Afghanistan for troops. Top-tier acts like Rancid, The Dropkick Murphys and Bouncing Souls have penned songs in tribute to today’s men and women at war. Even Rise Against, who caused a stir this fall after refusing to headline a show that would be played on a stage sponsored by Army re­cruiters, provided the USO with stacks of tickets to hand out to service members on its tour this summer.

After decades of confusing the two, punk is starting to grapple with the sub­tle distinction between opposing the war and opposing the veteran.

“With the old issues of punk rock, I’d like to believe that it was never about the soldiers; it was always about the gov­ernment,” explains Dropkick Murphys bagpiper Scruffy Wallace, who served with the infantry in the Canadian mili­tary. “That’s what the punk legends have always stood on, saying how much the government can [expletive] themselves.” That’s a sea change in punk bands’ position on military service. British acts with their roots in punk’s 1977 heyday, like The Clash, spared sol­diers little sympathy. Ameri­ca’s early adopters ― such as the Dead Kennedys ― echoed those sentiments. In fact, most mod­ern bands are just as belliger­ently pro-peace as their forefa­ thers. They’re just learning to distinguish policy from those whose job it is to carry out orders.

“I think it’s an important distinction to make,” Rise Against frontman Tim McIl­rath says, “because what it does is … em­power people to not be afraid to speak their mind about the war and what’s going on while still being able to support their brother or their sister or their mother or their father who is a proud member of the armed forces.” For many acts, they k now what it’s like to have a family that served. McIlrath’s father fought in Vietnam; his grandfather is also a vet. Rancid singer/guitarist Tim Armstrong’s brother retired from a career with the Army, and punk-folkie Tim Barry came from a line that included veterans of Vietnam, Korea and World War II.

“To betray the soldiers is betraying my family,” Barry says. “To not look at each person as an individual who made those decisions on their own or at the encour­agement of their community or as a re­sponse to something tragic that hap­pened, such as 9/11, would be to skew the reality of the situation.” Exposure to the troops eroded some of the antipathy toward the military for New Jersey’s Bouncing Souls. A Euro­pean tour brought the act to Schwein­furt, Germany, where the band played to soldiers on the verge of ship­ping to Iraq in the early stages of the war.

“I just couldn’t wrap my head around why anyone would do it or want to go there,” singer Greg Attonito says is reflection. “Then I met those guys and I could understand.” The Dropkick Murphys took a similar angle on “Last Letter Home,” a tune in­spired by fan Marine Sgt. Andrew Farrar and his final communication with his family, sent a couple weeks before he was scheduled to return to the States.

The song was especially poignant for Wallace, a combat veteran himself.

“I know how hard it is coming back from combat, just trying to adapt to being in civilian life again,” he says.

Even the new breed of troop-friendly punk still rages at the machines that send men and women into war.

“Activists and punk rockers haven’t changed their tactics since Vietnam,” Barry says. “Let’s be realistic about this: There’s very little validity in walking around with a sign on a stick with a peace symbol. Everybody has to accli­mate and adjust to new situations.” “It is ridiculous to have someone say, ‘I don’t agree with this war. I think we should pull out.’ And then be, like, ‘So, what you’re saying is that you hate my brother in the Army?’ ” McIlrath says.

“It’s this kind of rhetoric that is designed to silence people, which is very un­American in itself.” □