Category: The Resilient Life

Compassion, Fantastic Coffee and My Shock.

Compassion, Fantastic Coffee and My Shock.

Opatija, Croatia.

This morning, I was treated to a good cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts.   Good coffee always reminds me of my friend.  We called him “Effendi.” He and I used to drink endless cups of amazingly good coffee together, the best I have ever had, when I lived in Opatija, Croatia.

It makes sense.  Due to its location at the northern end of the Adriatic, at one time or another, Opatija (pronouced o-pot-i-ya) has been ruled by Italy, the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Ottoman Empire.  Blend these with the local Slavic influence and you’ve got way more than your typical cup of joe.

While I lived there, it was less than an hour drive to Trieste, Italy (most of that going through 2 border crossings)  and right around two hours to Venice.  The architecture in Opatija shows the blend of these great cultures.  So does the food, and especially the fantastic coffee.  I have never had a macchiato (here’s a recipe) anything  like those I had in Opatija.

The Balkans is one of the world’s great melting pots of culture. Slavic culture’s western-most reach ends here in Serbia.  Austro-Hungarian culture dips into Croatia.  Ottoman influence is still alive in Bosnia.

Over the centuries, the human exchange between these three major cultures has led to both a flourishing social climate, and on occasion, tragically explosive and lethal politics.

Click on the map a few times to see Opatija is under the "j" in Rijeka on the right.

For the year I lived there, I ran a refugee relief program funded by USAID.  The war in the Balkans had just ended after the worst part of the Rigid Identities of the politicians of the area played up fear and extremism between these rich cultures instead of building on the amazing strengths they offer each other.  If you’re old enough, you surely remember the genocidal results that followed in the horrific war that raged in the former Yugoslavia during the early 1990s near the heart of central Europe.

My main work was to develop trauma response programs to help Croatians who had been forced from their homes to find a way back home.  I had the even more difficult task of helping the far larger number of Bosnians return to their homes across the border.  (Here’s a map of the region.)

Work for the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, pictured here at the Hague, and USAID led to my doing this refugee work.

These were people forced from their homes at gun-point.  Women, children and men alike were all raped and brutalized, the men often killed  in the process to try to break the spirits of the population so that they would never want to return.  These cruel methods went along with a brutal military offensive to drive Bosnian Muslims and Croatians from their homes so that ethnic Serbs could claim land they felt was theirs.  The result was a horrific genocide.

In our meetings, Effendi and I would drink endless cups of coffee together.  It only dawned on me months after I arrived that the reason I never seemed to get any sleep was because business in the region is conducted over  coffee.  When I went to someone’s office, coffee was served, many cups.  Or, as is the custom, we would meet in cafes to do business and drink more.  By the end of the typical day, I would have had 12-15 cups of coffee.  I usually can’t sleep after 2.

So, Effendi, who was the recognized leader of the Bosnian Muslim refugee community, and I would meet often to try to figure out how to help the tens of thousands of people forced from their homes  to return to Bosnia.  We usually met over coffee and chivapchichi (here’s the recipe).

"Chivap" or chivapchichi is the Balkan version of hamburger.

I loved this man, but the endless, (and delicious) coffee and “chivap” were killing me.

Effendi and I puzzled over how to send people back to homes they had been forced from at gun-point.  One day, while we met at the refugee community center, a ramshackle building the refugees rented, I put the question to Effendi.  ”How do we send people home without rekindling conflict all over again?  Some will want to seek revenge.  How do we prevent the people in the houses from getting violent?  What can we do to make a difference?”

“Are you free Saturday morning?”  Effendi asked.

“Yes.”

“Then, come here at 7:00 for the children’s class.  I want to show you something.”

A few days later, I arrived bright and early with Neli, my translator, to see what Effendi had in store for me.  We climbed the stairs of the old building to the large public room that held about 200 kids.  They were all threadbare having lost everything in the war, but immaculate and well pressed.  They were sitting on the floor in neat rows facing Effendi who was already well into that week’s lesson to help prepare the children to return to their homes in Bosnia.

I was greeted with great respect and formality by the kids.  Neli and I took our places.  Effendi continued,

“Children, what is the first obligation of a Muslim when we return to our homes in Bosnia?”

In unison 200 strong, the children replied, “The first obligation of a Muslim, when we return to our homes in Bosnia, is to forgive the people living in our houses.”

“Children, what is the second obligation of a Muslim when we return to our homes in Bosnia?”

“The second obligation of a Muslim, when we return to our homes in Bosnia, is to ask the people living in our houses if we can help them.”

Shocked, and knowing full well what these kids had been through, I asked Neli to confirm what we had just heard.  ”Yes, that’s what he said.”

So, it was possible to return to Bosnia without violence.  Effendi knew it could work.  It wouldn’t be accomplished by a top-down administrative plan.  This was the way.  It would be done by many people making a very personal choice.

In fact, there has been no violence to speak of in Bosnia since the war ended.

I think of Effendi, those kids and my choices every time I think I am entitled to be angry or hurt.   Or, when I have a good cup of coffee.

Related Posts:

The Compassionate Identity: The Prize and the Price.

Post-Partisan America: First Things First: The Choice We Make”

“Lessons from 9/11 for Tucson”

“A Compassionate Identity:  ”What Sue Remembers”

Please share this with your friends on Facebook or your own blog.  I’d love to hear your comments below.

All Rights Reserved, John Woodall, MD, copyright, 2011.

Compassion, the Prize and the Price

Compassion, the Prize and the Price

If you missed the first post on the Compassionate Identity, click here.

I really like Chuck Willie.  You would too.

Chuck and Martin before they became "Dr. Willie" and "Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr."

Chuck was Martin Luther King’s classmate at Morehouse College.  You know what became of Dr. King.  Dr. Willie has his own  illustrious record.

I met Chuck when he was the Chair of the Board of the Judge Baker Children’s Center at Harvard University.  I was on the faculty at Judge Baker at the time.  A more approachable man than Chuck is hard to imagine.  With his many remarkable achievements, his combination of humble affability and excellence in achievement make him a gem of a man whom I highly value and simply love to talk to.

Chuck participated in the interfaculty working group I put together at Harvard after 9/11 on “Resilient Responses to Social Crisis.”  We were looking at what the absolute best responses might be to that horrible event and ones like it.  We were particularly interested in how to do this on a large scale.  That’s where Chuck has special insights.

One of his many areas of expertise is how to create effective grassroots social action.   Like Dr. King, this was the burning question before all Morehouse students of his generation and even now.  Chuck came to study the methods of his former classmate, Dr. King, and offered our group his insights.

It was after one of our working group meetings that Chuck came up to me to give me a synopsis of Dr. King’s methods.  He told me how the Montgomery bus boycott in 1955 was a perfect example of how to mobilize a group of people to be their best. (Check out this tune by the Neville Brothers in honor of Rosa Parks.)

“Every Monday night, people from every part of Montgomery would come together at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church where Dr. King was pastor.”  Chuck said.  ”They would basically be involved in two actitivites.  On the one hand, they would listen to sermons and speeches about the “Beloved Community.”  They would talk among themselves, read the Bible, study from other sources, all of this to get a clear idea of what “The Prize” was they were after.”

“You see, they needed to have a crystal clear vision of what it was they were being asked to do.  In this case, it wasn’t only their own liberation from the oppression of Segregation and Jim Crow.  They wanted much more than that.  They were going to liberate their oppressors from the shackles of their prejudice and hatred.  In that way everyone could be free.  Their goal was the ‘Beloved Community.’”

“So, on the one hand, they needed to have this goal, this Prize, clearly fixed in their minds with all of its benefits and moral value.”

“On the other hand, in order to make a mature ethical choice, they had to understand in the depths of their souls what the cost would be, what “The Price” was to pay for that “Prize.”

Their families could be harrassed or harmed, crosses burned on their property, fire hoses turned on them, attack dogs set loose on them.  They could be beaten with clubs.  They could be killed.”

“They had to look these costs straight in the face and decide for themselves if that Prize was worth paying that Price.”

Rosa Parks

“Over the course of time, by going over the Prize and the Price in every possible way, turning their options over and over in their minds and weighing in their hearts what this all meant, every one of those people was able to make a deep personal commitment to that Prize and accept the Price they would pay to get it.  This allowed them to make a deeply personal ethical choice that rested at the core of their being.

After nearly 13 months of this, it was as though there were thousands of Dr. Kings.  If he had been killed then, that boycott still would have gone on and succeeded due to the deep clear-eyed personal commitment of all involved.”

Rosa Parks after her arrest.

To make the important decisions in our life, we need to get clear on the Prize we are after and the Price we pay for it. A lot of parenting, especially of a teenager, is all about this.  Of course, the Price is not only what we might have to sacrifice for our Prize, but also the price we pay for failing to choose.  Difficult times give us the motivation to look for the best of what we can be.

A Rigid or Weakened Identity prevent us from seeing the best of that Prize.  They dim our vision of the Prize and rob us of the confidence to choose.  Or worse, they tragically energize us to make mean spirited or “small” choices as Jimmy Dunne described in another post.

A Compassionate Identity opens up the horizon of possibilities for us.  We can begin to see the best of what we can be.  Our choice can then be better informed.  If from a Compasionate Identity, we lay out that Prize to someone who is in a difficult situation, we offer them a way to hope, a way to the best in themselves.  If we also lay out the Price that will have to be paid to reach that Prize, we give them the chance to make the best choice to make that hope real.  We fire their determination to achieve something higher.

This is the goal of the Unity Project, the ReachUP! USA initiative and this blog.

Related posts:

Susan Dunne and “What Sue Remembers

A wonderful story from the Balkans:  ”Compassion, Fantastic Coffee and My Shock

All Rights Reserved, Copyright, John Woodall, MD, 2011

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Our coffee cups were pretty close to this big.

Compassion and What Sue Remembers

Click here if you missed the last post on Post-Partisan America.

I knew I wanted to meet Sue Dunne after I met her son, CJ.

His Dad and I had an interview scheduled in his office on a Saturday morning in mid-town Manhattan.  Jimmy Dunne’s story is quite moving and inspiring.  He has gotten a lot of attention for his handling of the reconstruction and phenomenal growth of Sandler O’Neill & Partners after 9/11 and the firm’s loss of 66 people that day in the South Tower.   I told a small part of Jimmy’s story in a previous post.  But, it was meeting CJ that showed me that this was a family story.

Our coffee cups were pretty close to this big.

Sue and I met in the Dunne’s lovely home on the East River in Manhattan.  She greeted me at the door with an enormous cup of coffee in her hands.  A few seconds later, I had one in mine, too.   (She offered me some coconut milk to go with it.  Ordinarily, I would have said “no.”  But, I thought, “What the heck,” and accepted.  It was delicious.  Try it if you get a chance.  You’ll like it.)

The conversation naturally flowed while we settled into the living room.  We turned the exchange to CJ and his Dad and the reason for my coming to see her.   “Like his Dad, CJ has a lot of presence, especially for a 16 year old.   There was something else that was there, too.   He has an ease with adults that is refreshing and a sense of deep confidence.  I liked him.  He showed a genuine interest in the life of his Dad and a sense of grit and heart and desire for excellence that was striking for his age.  He’s still young, but these are great signs for the future.”

I finished plugging in and turning on my computer to record our conversation as I continued,

“These are the same qualities I saw in his Dad, but with a different flavor.  So, I figured the difference had to come from his Mom.   I know that most stories of success are really family stories.  So, seeing CJ and interviewing Jimmy, I knew I needed to speak to you to get a better picture of Jimmy and that time around 9/11.”

We jumped right into the deep end of our conversation talking about the days immediately after 9/11, when Jimmy, now the only surviving Principal of the three that directed the firm at Sandler O’Neill, had to come up with a way to support the families of those killed that day and, in parallel to this, rescue the firm from collapse.

Entire departments of the firm were depopulated.  All of the records of their business dealings were gone.  They had to reconstruct who their clients were and the contacts developed by now deceased colleagues, establish what the contractual arrangements were, rebuild their information technology support, find qualified replacements for those lost and a host of other crises, while also tending to the human calamity they faced and the unspeakable loss to the families of their loved ones.

Bereft families had to tend to immediate issues about insurance, house payments, what to do about kids in college and a thousand family issues couples struggle with together.  Many families turned to Jimmy to help them figure these matters out.  All the while, the steady cadence of memorial services and funerals continued for months along with the utterly exhausting shock of it all.

Sandler O’Neill decided to extend payment of salaries to the families of the deceased.  A foundation was established to provide for the families’ health insurance and kids’ educations.

Sandler was the first firm on Wall Street to do this.  The conventional wisdom at the time and the best advice of experts was that firms should not do this for the families.  That it would undermine the capitalization of the firms, thereby weakening their business positions and their reputations for financial stability in the market.  Jimmy, with absolutely no guarantee of success, did it anyway.  Sandler O’Neill and Jimmy Dunne became the role models for the rest of Wall Street and earned the well-deserved esteem they wear today.

“I was trying to support my husband any way I could.”  Sue began with a raw tenderness for old and dear friends who had passed away, some friends whom Jimmy had known since his teens.  ”Jimmy needed me.  I needed to go out to our friends.  My days were spent going to funerals.”

“It was a Wall of Black!  9/11 was just black.  It was just the darkest of the dark.”  Sue said of that time.

In that blackness, Sue described a surprising respite.  It was what she felt while at the memorial services and funerals.

“The feeling was so peaceful.  Going to those funerals with people feeling the same way.  We were able to share their lives.  You got to hear about their lives from people who really loved them.  You never wanted to leave.  It was safe in there.  You heard so many wonderful things about people you loved very much.”

We talked about the challenges of raising kids through all of this.  I recalled my experience in the Balkans during and after the war there.   When given the chance, kids would want to draw over and over their experience of what happened.  Of course, this is the effort of a child with limited language skills to try to understand what they had experienced.  The issue becomes one of helping the child find words to not only describe what happened, but to have a way to give meaning to the loss in a way that frees up their motivation to build their future in a positive way and not paralyze them with fear or rage.

“I spent the first 3 months going to funerals.  I wanted to get out there and let them know we were there for them.  Trying to do what we could…  We needed to get out and support them as much as we could.”

I thought, this was a real sign of who this woman is.  She didn’t have to “get out and support them,”  but she “needed to.”  This is the heart of a leader, the heart of a caring friend.

“I was delighted I could go.  It was a privilege.  It was hard for me to stop.   I loved being there supporting the families.”

I asked Sue about any lessons she picked up from those days.  Was there a way to summarize what she learned for CJ or another teenager?  What would she say?

“It sounds so simple, like such a cliche, but it’s important to live your life to the fullest all the time.  Be there.  Show up!”

“You don’t want to be in the position where you say to yourself  ’I really should have showed up more for this person.’  Or, sit there and blame others.  Or, sit there and blame Muslims.  It’s about helping other people.  Getting going with your life.”

This is the mystery and the beauty that’s so often found after such a terrible event.  Sue found a great comfort learning about and appreciating the humanity of those who were lost. These memorials were a straight path to the pure uncovered love that people felt for those lost.  Being present for this kind of sharing exposed the link that connects us all, a link that is often hidden by the turmoil of our day. In a time of crisis, some people help us see that link by their care, their presence. Sue showed up not only for Jimmy and her kids, but very personally for scores of families.  Sue remembers the love.

The next post explores getting clear on the Prize and the Price to, like Sue, make a choice from our Compassionate Identity.

Related Posts:

A wonderful story from the Balkans:  ”Compassion, Fantastic Coffee and My Shock

Sue’s husband, Jimmy, is talked about in this post:  ”Resilience and Leadership: Jimmy Dunne.”

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Suffering Successfully

Suffering Successfully

This is Part 3 in an open series.  If you missed Part 2, it’s here.

It’s a question that is not going away any time soon:  what do we do about extremism?   How do we understand it?  How do we translate that understanding into ways to prevent its rise and influence?  What positive strengths can be put in place to offer a hopeful alternative?

Building on the previous post, in the next few posts on overcoming extremism, I want to lay out how fear and anger, if we leave them unattended, become themes in the way we identify ourselves.  If we master fear and anger, we develop a capacity for engaging the world in highly creative ways that allows for the expression of greater degrees of our potential than would otherwise be possible.  This becomes the basis, the “bones,” of the anatomy of civility.

Once we understand these points, we can lay out a framework in the final set of posts for building the strengths of resilience and civility that not only will act as an inoculation against extremism, but are the foundational skills needed to develop our own potential and strengthen the fabric of our democracy.

Mr. Ali Nakhjavani

David Ruhe, M.D.

Mr. Ali Nakhjavani is one of my heroes. I once heard him speak glowingly about another hero of mine, Dr. David Ruhe.  Mr. Nakhjavani gave Dr. Ruhe one of the most interesting compliments I have ever heard fall from anyone’s lips.  He said, “Ah, Dr. Ruhe!  There is a man who has suffered successfully!”

We all suffer.  There is no way around it.  Some seem to do so sucessfully quite on their own.   Most of us need help.

In general terms, we can say that fear and anger become the dominant themes of the two types of identity structures that arise when we have not yet succeeded in managing our suffering.  I call these the “Weakened Identity” and the “Rigid Identity.”

There is a third identity that distinguishes those who, like Dr. Ruhe, suffer successfully and find themselves equipped to deal with the slings and arrows of life with integrity and compassion.  I call this the “Compassionate Identity.”  To best understand this Compassionate Identity, it will be helpful to know a bit about what takes place in our lives if we neglect to develop it.  The next  posts deal with the Weakened Identity and its opposite, the source of extremism, the Rigid Identity.

Click here for the next post:  Part 4: Extremism to Civility: The “Weakened Identity.”

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All Rights Reserved, John Woodall, MD, copyright, 2011


Natural survival instincts can lead to despair or rigidity in times of crisis.

The Three Identities: Weakened, Rigid and Compassionate



As with all great tragedies like 9/11, Katrina, Haiti or Tucson we are presented with a choice.

The multiple crises affecting the country present us with significant challenges to our sense of who we are as individuals and a nation.  There is a choice that links the plight of those who are living through the catastrophes of the earthquakes in Haiti and Japan, the challenges facing the residents of Mississippi, New Orleans and Vermont since Hurricanes Katrina and Irene and all of us since the horror of September 11, 2001.

In fact, it is the choice we all face when we are confronted with any crisis in our lives. It will confront us again if, God forbid, another catastrophe strikes our shores. Knowing what is involved in this choice can guide us through any past or future crisis we face individually or as a nation.

This point came up when the leadership of a few Departments* of the government of the City of New York asked me to help them understand how best to support the children of the city after 9/11. As a psychiatrist working in resilient trauma responses, I told them that we must not make patients out of the vast majority of kids who lived through the tragedy of that day. They weren’t mentally ill just because they were sad, frightened, grieved or angry.

Instead, I said we needed to help them make sense out of what happened by pointing them toward a vision that would bring out the best in them.  We then needed to mobilize them toward that vision.  If we did this correctly, we could help these kids become role models of resilience instead of psychological casualties.  They could come out personally stronger and become agents to help make the country stronger and our democracy healthier.

I told them the issue the city faced had to do with the affect 9/11 had on the identity of everyone in the city, and the country for that matter, including the children.   These affects on our identity had far reaching influences on the way we see and relate to ourselves and each other.   I went on, “Generally speaking, there are three identities that result from a horrific event like this.  The first, I call a ‘Weakened Identity.’”

I explained that for some after such a horrific event, there is a corrosive effect on their sense of hope that anything good can happen in the world.   This is one effect of our natural instincts in times of threat to our safety.  Our perfectly natural instinctual survival responses cause us to filter all of our experiences through the lens of our survival emotions: feelings like fear and anger.  This is a necessary and very helpful survival mechanism to help us focus on dangers when our safety is threatened.  But, in social situations over the long term, these unthinking responses are nothing but damaging to our relationships and our ability to effecively solve problems.  The survival emotions of fear and anger help us while a crisis is occuring.  When it is over, we need other emotions and cognitive skills to keep our social and community life healthy.

These latter skills, however, do not come automatically like fear and anger do.  They require deliberate conscious cultivation, modelling and practice.  The problem the city faced was allowing these instinctual survival responses governed by fear and anger to morph into social expressions that would poison the climate for healthy community and effective democratic governance.

In the case of the survival emotion of fear, our perceptions become distorted to see threats everywhere, even where they do not exist.  For instance, when chased by a tiger, the survival emotion of fear plays an important function to help us focus on the threat to our lives and run away.  But over time and when the tiger is gone, if this feeling persists, we will misinterpret harmless movements as being threatening.  Our thinking, feeling and behavior are distorted, as is our motivation to engage in new behaviors and explore new forms of growth.  We become motivated to avoid new thoughts and experiences in life for fear of harm, not to engage them for the growth they may contain.

Other parts of our capaicity to perceptive, feel, think, exercise our will and behave need to kick in after the threat is gone.  This is so we can reflect objectively on the world as it is now, take allowance for the past threat, but not be caught up in the cognitive distortions caused by fear.  In order to grow and enjoy life, we need to know how to consciously over-ride our fear.

To calm our fear enough to reflect objectively on the current situation requires a conscious choice.  If this conscious choice is not made, the residue of lingering fear distorts our way of being.  This has an exhausting affect on our view of the world.  Over time, it becomes  harder to believe that what we have held to be true and good really amount to anything.   The resulting sense of powerlessness can feed a despairing conviction in  our personal ineffectivness.  So, with a diminished sense of a vision worth striving for, coupled with a weakening sense of personal capacity, a paralysis of the will sets in that is characterized by despair and disengegement with the big questions in our personal life and our role in the life of  society as a whole.  It is harder to be motivated to do anything positive since no goal seems particularly worthwhile.  As a result, we sabotage our growth by not striving for any worthy goal.

To deal with the pain of this erroneous conclusion that our lives are hopelessly fruitless, we can become caught up in the pursuit of anesthetizing distractions  and dysfunctional behaviors and relations.  When these forces play out in vast numbers of people, the citizenry is disengaged, distracted and disempowered just as the increasingly complex crises in the country continue to demand higher levels of focused, dispassionate and collaborative attention.

I warned that this fear of the future would show up in young people as truancy, poor school performance, a greater sense of nihilism and preoccupation with distracting and dysfunctional pursuits.  The lack of a believable vision they could adopt to direct their lives, coupled with a lost sense of capacity and competence to move their lives forward would lead to lost opportunity for personal growth and apathy for one’s own personal advancement and the social responsibilities each generation must pick up to fulfill the social contract in a democracy.  I call this constellation of effects that result in a dimmed life’s vision, a diminished sense of personal capacity, the feeling of despair and withered motivation, a “Weakened Identity.”

Natural survival instincts can lead to despair or rigidity in times of crisis.

On the other extreme is a “Rigid Identity.”  Instead of being grounded in fear, however, the Rigid Identity arises from anger.   Fear has the cognitive and behavioral affect of directing us to avoidance of new ideas and others.  Anger, on the other hand, is mobilizing and directs us toward engagement, and unfortunately, engagement with perceived threats that may or may be there.  Unlike a person with a Weakened Identity that has a dissipated will and difficulty holding a vision of any goal worth believing in, a Rigid Identity is much the opposite.

A person with a Rigid Identity becomes intensely allied to a particular idea: a political party, a national, racial or ethnic identity, a religious belief, etc.  Unlike a person with a Weakened Identity who responds to the sense of powerlessness with diminished will, a person with a Rigid Identity has an intensifed sense of will.  They direct this will to the goals of an identity group that, to them, holds the ultimate answer to the experience of powerlessness over the real or imagined threats they perceive.  Everyone inside this group identity is considered good and principled and everyone outside is considered not just different, but evil, bad, stupid, or a potential threat.  Being more motivated by anger, these indviduals are far more outsopken and interested in organizing then their Weakened Identity counterparts, who  despite being a majority, have neither a well formulated social vision nor the motivation to be outspoken about one.

I pointed to how the national discourse had become polarized with Americans calling other Americans “traitors” and “America haters” as examples of this rigidification of identity that occurs in parts of the population that predictably follows in some form after a frightening national event.

The danger, I explained, was that those with a nihilistic Weakened Identity would fall prey to those with a Rigid Identity either being blamed for the nations problems or becoming the objects of recruitment to their increasingly extremist views.   I further explained that the opposing Rigid Identities would battle each other increasing social tension and polarizing the social discourse exactly when unity of purpose and reasoned cooperation was most needed to deal with increasingly pressing, interrelated and complex problems.  Worse, the tendency of Rigid Identities to not tolerate the anxiety that comes with moral and social complexity would lead to simplistic, and therefore inadequate assessments of the real problems facing the country.  This would result in the forceful advocacy of inadequate solutions that were likely to make matters worse and closed to further inverstiagtion.

In neighborhoods, this Rigid Identity might appear in youth as increased racial, ethnic, religious or gang tension as groups demonized each other.  That would set the stage for community instability, the increasing inability to problem solve cooperatively and effectively, and create the social atmosphere for potential violence.

One of the city officials from the Department of Education looked at papers in her hands and noted that there had been an increase in incidents of gang violence in the months after 9/11. Everyone who watched the news had seen the name calling between increasingly strident Americans gripped by Rigid Identifications.

“What do we do?” was the question on everyone’s lips. “There is a third response,” I said, “a third identity.  I call it, ‘The Compassionate Identity.’ Unlike the Weakened and Rigid Identities, which arise instinctually as a result of neurologically wired unreflective and automatic survival responses to threats, the Compassionate Identity requires a mature conscious choice.  We come to see the roots of our common humanity in our common suffering.  This allows us to see the potential for united growth with each other when we face a crisis and not only see each other as sources of threat that lead to fearful despair or angry extremism.

But this requires the capacity to calm the survival emotions of fear and anger and reflect on the larger picture.  In the face of the emotional pressures of the immediate trauma, it is hard to learn this skill.  It would be much better to have a core segment of a community that has practiced this kind of response, that understands its features and can speak to its value so that it can be modelled to others in the aftermath of a crisis and give a workable alternative to those who despair and a way to calm the anger of potential extremists.”

Compassion must be chosen after great loss and suffering.

“How do we make that choice?” was the logical next question. “It begins with knowing these responses are there.  Kids need to know what to avoid when the Weakened and Rigid Identities arise in them, as they surely will.  They also need examples of effective applications of a Compassionate Identity that are more than bromides, something that can realistically capture the hopes of suffering and seemingly powerless people.  Compassion has to be seen as the engine of personal and community growth and strength and not a hollow moralizing platitude.  It has to be seen as the foundation of civil discourse and effective problem solving.  It has to be seen as the ground from which healthy democracy springs, the best of the American promise, our generation’s version of the ‘better angels of our nature.’”

“Then, every leader in the city has to state this choice over and over.  They have to be outspoken role models of this choice.  From the Mayor on down they have to steer people away from reflexive despair and extremism and state clearly that the lesson to be learned from this horrible event is that we are all in this together. We all have a role to play and there is no ‘them,’ only ‘us.’  Then, we need to teach the kids the skills they need to live creatively and productively in that kind of community.”**

My experience has shown time and again that no matter how horrific the events we go through, we retain the crucial element of our humanity: our ability to choose our response to what happens to us. In this lies our personal hope.  In choosing a Compassionate Identity, our hope is linked to the hopes of others.  We unleash latent capacities and abilities in ourselves that can be directed to the welfare of all.  We minimize the likelihood of our actions adding to the disunity that paralyzes the national discourse and robs us of our chance to solve the complex and trans-partisan issues we face.

Our personal and national resilience must draw from this choice.  Before the national discourse becomes irretrievably caught up in the despair and disengement of the Weakened Identity and the country is left to those extremists on the Left and the Right with Rigid Identities who will lead us into an abyss of disunity, short sighted and impractical solutions to complex problems and a deepening national paralysis, we must act to vindicate before an increasingly hopeless and agitated citizenry that the best promise of America lies in a practical and effective system that sets free, through the united exercise of a Compassionate Identity, the better angels in each of us.  The Unity Project is one effort along these lines.

This site is an exploration of that choice and the potential it holds for every aspect of life.  This is what I mean by resilience.

Related Posts:

A wonderful story of the choice of a Compassionate Identity from the Balkans:  ”Compassion, Fantastic Coffee and My Shock

The classic example of this choice in recent American history is Dr. Martin Luther King.  In this post, Dr. King’s Morehouse College roommate, Dr. Charles Willie, who worked with me at Harvard on the Resilient Responses to Social Crisis Interfaculty Working group, explains:  “Compassion, the Prize and the Price.”

This video demonstrates this choice among survivors of the civil war in Uganda:  “As a Family”

Post-Partisan America explains the tension we feel in the country.

Click here for Suffering Successfully.

All Rights Reserved, John Woodall, MD, copyright, 2011

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*Leaders of The Department of Youth and Community Development (DYCD) and the Department of Education of the City of New York were present.

**Right there on the spot, we created The Healing Arts Project as the way for the city to do this. This program was carried out over the next few years across the City of New York. That work, and the way it was subsequently refined in pilot schools and in New Orleans and Mississippi after Hurricane Katrina became the theory and methods of the Unity Project. This work was then presented to my colleagues for comment at the Resilient Responses to Social Crisis Interfaculty Working Group I convened at Harvard’s Mind Brain Behavior Interfaculty Initiative from 2002-2004.

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