Total Pageviews

Showing posts with label pride. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pride. Show all posts

Saturday, 2 April 2022

THE LOWDOWN

 



I’ve often said that the worst thing, emotionally speaking, humans can do to one another is humiliation. The Nazis knew this, when they set elderly Jewish gentlemen to cleaning sidewalks on their knees with a toothbrush. Schoolchildren often have a diabolically fine sense of it, when they find just the right insult for the victim of their bullying. And at the other end of the scale governments upon occasion do it to whole countries. 

            Humiliation is almost never forgiven, and never forgotten. A woman in her mid-eighties remembers with crystal clarity the day when a grade-school teacher made an example of her for some transgression, in front of the whole class. And thousands of Russians now support their murderous and vengeful Führer because a generation ago, when Berlin’s vile wall came down, they felt their country had been humiliated beyond bearing. 

            The French language has two words for “pride”: orgeuil and fierté. The former is the chief of deadly sins; the latter is the healthy pride one may feel in an achievement of one’s own, of one’s daughter’s, of one’s football team’s or of one’s country’s. English has an additional word of great value, “self-esteem”: the form of psychologically healthy, indeed essential, pride that allows one to hold up one’s head, to walk tall. In humiliation, all these are battered, as one is made to feel worthless and of no account. The word, after all, comes from humilis, low, close to the humus, the earth, the soil, the mud.

            What, if anything, defends us against humiliation? One may take refuge in overweening pride, orgeuil, but that is a bitter draught that corrodes: not for nothing is it the chiefest of all sins. No: there is one defence, and I suspect one only, against this terrible condition. T.S. Eliot expressed it memorably and with perfect accuracy in “Four Quartets”:

 

                                    the only wisdom we can hope to acquire

                                    is the wisdom of humility. Humility is endless. 

 

In what is nearly a form of homeopathic medicine, we find a word with the same root, the root of eartth, of soil: humility. He that is down need fear no fall: he that is low, no pride. Humility does not mean hating or feeling contempt for oneself: humility means the openness and the generosity of looking at most other people with admiration for their unique talents or achievements, and not thinking of oneself as better than they. And it protects one against humiliation, because if that’s the way you feel and someone snide snarls “you’re not much” you quite naturally feel that he has a point, unpleassant though he is about it. It is hard, if not impossible, to humiliate a genuinely humble person. 

            What message is there here at the level of nations? A major reason for the rise of Hitler and the Nazi party was the Treaty of Versailles, which in sealing the Allied victory after the Great War humiliated the German nation as well as bankrupting it. And it has been said that one reason for the present war in Ukraine is the humiliation Putin and many Russians feel was infliucted upon their country at the fall of the Soviet Union. “In victory, magnanimity” prescribed Churchill:  a phrase sometimes remembered but rarely acted upon. 

            It would be a Good Thing if every government’s foreign policy included a constant, recognized, and expressed, contemplation of every other nation’s especial talents and achievements. Thus we, as citizens, might be taught to look upon, say, the Turkish nation with admiration for its long history of Ottoman civilization and governance; to admire the Moroccans for their medieval philosophers; to be grateful to Spain for teaching us a certain kind of pride and courage, and to Portugal for introducing us to the exquisite melancholy of saudade. We might then tell our Russian neighbours on this planet how we admire the depth and intensity of feeling that their particular culture has made known to us, and compliment the Dutch for having almost invented the precious quality of religious tolerance. We might send a memorandum to the Chinese, gravely thanking them for having presented the world with the wisdom of Confucius. And who knows? the climate of international relations might possibly improve to the point where the other kind of climate would actually benefit.

 

Sunday, 17 May 2015

SURPRISED BY GIDE


André Gide, portrait by Matzneff


I was surprised to hear the marvellous voice of the bilingual actor Michael Lonsdale murmuring, on my car's stereo, a touching passage of faith by the austere and sometimes caustic Andre Gide. It comes from a notebook of diary-like jottings, Le Cahier vert (1916), and I offer it here in my own translation:

Lord, it is not because they tell me that you are the Son of God that I listen to your word; but your word is beautiful beyond all human words, and that is how I recognise that you are the Son of God. 

Through what absurd modesty, through what humility, what shame,  have I put off until today to write that which for so many years has yearned in me…

I always waited for more wisdom, reading, knowledge, as if the wisdom of men were not folly before God. 


Lord, I come to you as a child; as the child that  you want me to become, as the child that whoever abandons himself to you becomes. I resign all that was my pride and which near you would be my shame. I listen, and my heart is yours. 

Saturday, 9 November 2013

HUMBUG? NO, HUMBLE

Jean Vanier with a friend from the l'Arche community 
“The only wisdom is the wisdom of humility. Humility is endless.” (T.S. Eliot)

It’s a virtue unpopular with the young, who confuse it with humiliation or with an inferiority complex. As Paul Vallely wrote, à propos of Pope Francis, one tends to think that humility is a character trait – some have it, some don’t – when in fact it is a proper virtue, fostered by hard work. Like hope, it’s a virtue of the everyday, growing amid the humdrumlies of simple living and taking care of business. It both helps and is helped by looking at people around us and imagining their unknown private battles.
If Pride is the chief of the Deadly Sins, should Humility be the chief of virtues? The French have two words for “pride”: orgueil, which is the big bad Pride that looks contemptuously down on the world and everyone in it, and fierté, which is the good pride you take in the achievement of your offspring, and also the pride which, as Dryden’s Cleopatra observes, can be “all that held [you] up” when life gets rough. Given that pride can be complex, what about Humility? Luckily most Western languages have two words for “humility” and “humiliation”; one could say that the first is the opposite of orgueil and the second of fierté. And keeping Pride in mind when we think about all this will help us avoid the trap of thinking that a humble person thinks he’s nothing much. Well, compared to God, sure; but a genuinely humble person is probably quite a solid realist, who doesn’t think very much about his own level of whatever at all, but gets on with what needs doing and thinks of other people.
Humility also allows one to look back on one’s own life – by the day, month, year or lustrum – and recognize clearly the times when one has been a pig, a shit, or simply inadequate. Not in order to mull that over and over, but to face it without illusion and get on with being less of all three. Which, in turn, the humble person understands, involves going beyond our stone-dumb self and invoking the help of Him Who is always ready to lend a hand. In other words, prayer. No true humility without prayer. No true humility like the Cross.
True humility also allows for fierté, especially if it doesn’t last long enough to become one’s habitat.
One of the most positive things humility can do is help those who suffer from its poisonous parody: humiliation. If you look at the world around you, from children through adults to groups to whole nations, it’s easy to see how much of the world’s misery comes from humiliation. Humiliation is both an action and a feeling. The feeling can result from situations not intended to humiliate, in which case it expresses deep insecurity and an inferiority complex. What humility can do in such cases is be ultra-sensitive to words and actions that might cause humiliation in others. Pride, on the other hand, might say “Well, dammit, he/they shouldn’t be so bloody touchy: they’ve only themselves to thank.” Humility is good at seeing the hidden wounds. And seeing the innocence of others, however deeply hidden that may be; and appreciating that innocence, and other virtues, out loud.

No, it’s not just a trait of character that “some have and some haven’t, and that’s the way it is.” It’s looking at others, and talking to them, and looking at God, and talking to Him. Oh, and listening, in both cases . . . . .