A Crack in our Consciousness: Reactions to Violence, from Carnism to Separated Children

This week I was going to post about children’s books, a topic that feels shallow at this moment, and out of sync with where my thoughts lie – with the children in this country who have been mercilessly separated by their parents at our borders.

Even though the administration amended its policy on Wednesday night, it will now put adults and children together in what many call cages, and still leaves thousands of children torn away from their parents in a way that is hard to comprehend.

So we take a break from our regularly scheduled gender programming to touch on an issue that is undoubtedly occupying the minds of most parents and most Americans. Like many of you, it has been hard to concentrate on daily tasks when I think about the cries of toddlers who don’t know where their mommy or daddy went, or if they’ll ever see them again.

It’s a crack in our consciousness.

As I thought about these children and the attachment I feel to my own child, I couldn’t help but think of an interview I listened to just a couple of days ago with Ezra Klein and Dr. Melanie Joy about carnism, a podcast recommended to me by a dear and consciously-living friend. There were simply too many common themes to ignore.

Dr. Joy used this term – a crack in our consciousness – to describe the feeling when we are unable to turn away from atrocities, such as the process to create animal products. But we so often do turn away, because society deeply conditions us to do so. And because sometimes the pain is too much to handle.

Many people will shame me for even discussing the plights of children and animals in the same essay, but the similarity lies not in the experience of suffering of each – though the suffering can’t be ignored – but in our society’s response to understanding and witnessing acts of violence, including how our individual empathy and personal experience shape those responses.

Reactions when our belief systems are challenged: denial

Dr. Joy says that when people’s belief systems are challenged, even if they haven’t named this particular set of beliefs, there are a variety of reactions. One reaction is to look away. Denial, or more often, compartmentalization.

When we are met with atrocious conduct that doesn’t match up with our values, it can be hard to digest, and sometimes it’s easier to pretend it doesn’t exist. Even though we’ve been seeing the hashtags #wherearethechildren for a few weeks, the gravity of the situation did not hit its peak until this week, when the world became privy to photographs and recordings of babies, toddlers, and children screaming for their parents. Breastfeeding babies ripped away from their source of nutrition and comfort. Sometimes the worst actions are hard to believe until we see them.

But denial can dissipate the more closely we identify with the subject, and the harder it becomes to look away.

Validating the violence 

Dr. Joy also illustrates the primary defenses that people use when their belief systems are challenged; for example, validating the action as necessary or natural. For carnism, it’s the idea that eating animals is necessary (although we know today that’s not true for the vast majority of people).

For stripping children away from their parents, the defense is that we “need” to keep our borders safe and that criminally prosecuting all individuals seeking refuge from danger in their countries is a necessary means to keep those borders “safe” and closed.

These are certainly the more extreme views.

Secondary defenses 

A common (secondary) defense, according to Dr. Joy, is to invalidate the challenging ideology. Often this involves invalidating the messenger – they’re biased, or I don’t like their tactics. This week I’ve heard people say: “the parents are not following the rules, so they deserve the consequences.”

Is this really our position as a society, when, over centuries, oppressed or marginalized individuals have purposely disobeyed the rules to call attention to unfair and oppressive policies such as slavery, segregation, and sexual assault? Especially when these policies and laws result in suffering and trauma. How can anyone think that the children’s cries and pain are a natural consequence of their parents’ action, whether you believe those actions to be right or wrong?

Still others say that we must prioritize who we protect. This sentiment is not a denial of the problem, but an assertion of our inability to help everyone. Why are we fighting for brown children, they ask, when there are needy children (namely, white citizens) right here in the U.S. for whom we should provide care and attention first?

A quote I saw on Instagram yesterday:

“Why aren’t we this worried about the children that are U.S. citizens that are starving and homeless in our own country! All that famous people do is worry about foreigners and they need to look no further than our own borders.”

To me, this has always been faulty logic. First, it uses “otherness” to dehumanize individuals who live in other countries; a strategy long used to both marginalize people and justify animal consumption.

Second, and most importantly, there is no limit to how far our love and compassion may stretch. I first learned from Gena Hamshaw years ago about ahimsa, which is a spiritual principle shared by Buddhism and Hinduism that emphasizes refraining from violence toward all living things. A “do no harm” mentality. (I do not practice these religions, so this is an admittedly brief and likely incomplete translation of this idea. But the concept stuck with me and I encourage you to explore it further.)

Similarly, when faced with individuals who oppose the systematic killing of animals in the form of factory farming, people are often quick to say that we should focus on people before animals, a different but similar ranking system. And that ranking will typically prioritize the “others” before animals – there are children starving in Africa, and you’re worried about pigs?” These priorities do not have to be mutually exclusive. Certainly, we each have our own informal set of beliefs and “causes” to which we dedicate our time and money. While women’s rights, animal rights, and children with autism center many of my daily activities, I am also concerned with social justice and try my best to be an ally to racial justice, the LGBTQ community, the environment, and other issues.

Am I perfect? No. I’ve been vegan for 8 years (which also means I wasn’t for the better part of three decades), but I ate eggs during my pregnancy when my customary protein sources didn’t sit well, and I’ve occasionally “looked the other way” when traveling or dining out when it felt too hard. A couple months ago I listened to a podcast about moving toward zero waste, but I still haven’t gotten around to composting or buying cloth napkins, two items on my to-do list. But we can’t be deterred by our lack of perfection; it’s the journey and our openness to change that matters.

Like you, I’m a work in progress and I can do my best to limit the suffering in the world as best as I am able. This life is a journey to improve ourselves and the world, and it’s our thoughtfulness that counts.

We all have different needs for what is sustainable, Dr. Joy says. And these are impacted by our socioeconomic status, geographic region, and privilege. “We’re complicated, messy, and far from perfect,” said Dr. Joy.  But she stresses that we can each be an ally and supporter of the movement, even when a 100% dedication feels (or is) impossible.

Let’s not limit ourselves to a faux list of priorities that only considers a limited few worthy of protection. Our compassion is limitless, and can never be depleted.

Reactions to violence when it conflicts with our morals 

Our reactions to violence vary dramatically when we feel close (or distant) from the situation and the subject. For example, in past years, it has been personally hard for me to grasp the violence in Syria because it feels far away, and I don’t personally know anyone there.

In contrast, as a parent, and more specifically as mother who nursed a child for a year, my chest tightens and feels pain each time I see the tears in the eyes of a toddler, or when I read about the 9 month old breastfeeding infant separated from her mother, or when I hear the immigration official callously refer to the orchestra of children’s cries. It hurts.

But I have to keep challenging myself on these differing reactions. Do I feel the same pain when I read about an adult black man killed by police officers? Do I have to live the experience to feel compassion for the victim? Does my family need to be Syrian for me to feel the pain of those suffering? Certainly not; but our level of anger naturally heightens when we identify with the situation.

For example, I know a couple of newer mothers who eliminated cow’s milk after learning the reality of dairy production. As a society, we don’t talk much about the fact that cows are forced to be impregnated in order to produce milk, as they, like human women, don’t naturally have milk at all times. Immediately after cows birth their babies, humans remove the babies from the cow’s protection so that humans may use that mother cow’s milk for their own purposes. In the interview between Klein and Dr. Joy, she reports hearing mournful cries from the cows as their offspring are taken from them, as one of the most heart-wrenching sounds she’s ever heard. As a mother, the horrors of this situation feel deeply personal. I cry for the babies of Central America, and I cry for the babies of cows.

Our empathy brings us closer to others. But we don’t need to look like the victim or share experiences to feel compassion for others’ pain. How far can we stretch that compassion?

Feelings of helplessness

Most people do not seek to validate this awful policy about refugees, but even once they’ve acknowledged the pain, they feel helpless to prevent against it. The problem is too big. I can’t change it on my own.

In carnism, people who are friendly toward veganism and vegetarianism and want to decrease their consumption of animals may feel that one person’s actions lack the necessary power to make a difference, when in fact, we’d save 100 billion gallons of water if everyone went vegetarian for one day, along with other major environmental impacts. Reducing one’s animal consumption can actually be more powerful for the environment than driving an efficient car.

I have experienced feelings of helplessness this week, too, about children being separated from their parents. The fury and sadness can be almost debilitating. But it is precisely that fury that spurs systemic change. The record numbers of women running for office this year are no coincidence; their dissatisfaction is the very fuel that propels change and galvanizes our energy to create a new framework that better matches our values.

It’s ok to sit with the helplessness for a bit. Feel it, and let it sink in. Then turn it into action. Many folks, like Cup of Jo have tangible actions you can take to make your voice heard.

When we reclaim our fury and morph it into action, we stretch the bounds of our kindness and compassion.