Salt march to the Dead Sea: Gandhi's Palestinian reincarnation—By David Dean Shulman (Harper's Magazine)

Salt march to the Dead Sea: Gandhi's Palestinian reincarnation—By David Dean Shulman (Harper's Magazine)

Today, I ran into two interestingly opposing ideas. The first was part of a National Public Radio report on the impact of tobacco on the health of people in developing countries. One of the people interviewed, responding to a comment that pressure should be put on tobacco growers in developing countries, defended those that grow tobacco. I can't quote him directly, but in essence, he said, "If there is no law against it, then why should they not pursue a living by growing tobacco."

It is an interestingly amoral position that I have heard others--including American free marketers--take. I was left wondering why it is that we have abandoned personal morality in today's economy: if I am not breaking a law, then don't tell me not to do something. It left me a bit saddened.

Then, this afternoon, as I was watching supper cook on the grill, I read "Salt March to the Dead Sea," a commentary about the impact of Mahatma Gandhi on today's Palestinians. David Shulman noted that Nehru summarized Gandi's principles as follows: "Fearlessness and truth, and action allied to these," adding:

"'Action' meant deliberately breaking an immoral law, en masse, with an eye to the symbolic effect of disobedience: 'You assist an evil system most effectively by obeying its orders and decrees,' said Gandhi. The goal was never merely to undermine the system but also, crucially, to change the hearts and minds of one's opponents--in effect, to humanize them. To this end, one must never meet violence with violence."

That inspired me, but it also left me wondering: What does one do when there is no law to disobey? How do we fight an amoral system that uses the LACK of laws to justify its selfish actions? This, it seems, is a critical issue in a system where deregulation is seen as a public good and where executives and politicians alike see amorality in the face of profit as a private good.

Perhaps the Gandhian thing to do in this situation is simply to shun companies that pursue profit through amoral, if not immoral action. Perhaps, nonviolent action in this case means that we turn our backs on companies that put profit above the public good and encourage others to do the same. In a consumer society, this will take some fearlessness, as well.

Memorial Day Flowers

This morning, we drove to the little village of Burnside, Pennsylvania, to put flowers on the graves of Karen's grandparents and great-grandparents for Memorial Day.  It was a quiet drive on a Sunday morning through the rural Central Pennsylvania countryside, much of it following the West Branch of the Susquehanna River.  This has been a wet spring, and it was threatening to rain later in the day, so we were in a hurry to get the job done.

The cemetery had been mowed earlier in the week, possibly for the first time this spring.  It was a rough mowing, and one of our first tasks was to clear away the clippings.  Another family was there--a local couple whose parents knew Karen's grandmother well.  They came prepared with a grass rake (the husband was on the cutting crew, it turns out) and they lent it to us to clear our graves.  Then, we planted a total of 8 geraniums and a more than a dozen ageratims at four graves.

Heading home, we saw a young couple rafting on the Susquehanna and another man fishing in the middle of the stream.  It was nice to drive through the small towns--Mahaffey, Curwensville, Grampian--and enjoy a Sunday drive.  We got home without any serious rain and in time for Sunday brunch. 

Later this week, I will head to Hermitage to put flowers on my family's graves.  That is a bit less involved, since the cemetery does not allow live flowers.  But I look forward to it every year, nevertheless.

I suspect that this Memorial Day tradition is one that is already fading, but I do enjoy it.  It is nice to feel connected, even briefly,  to family and community this way.