Tribal II

I'm sure I've made similar comments before, but I have been thinking about the brethren in cult-like terms since it has been mentioned several times recently.

I don't much like the word "cult" in this context, not so much because it's inaccurate as because it is one of those words which comes with a whole lot of baggage attached, and using it means an audience immediately makes a set of assumptions which may or may not be helpful, and that discourages closer attention to the facts. So for that reason I prefer to stay out of the "are the brethren a cult?" debate.

That's why my preferred word is "tribal" when I'm thinking about the aspects of brethren life that just sort of happen, and I think of "social engineering" when considering the aspects that are managed. Notice that there is no hint of religion in either term.

Recent events have reinforced my previous conclusion that the defining characteristic of the brethren is their "us and them" attitude. What counts, to the exclusion of anything else, is "us". For a start, this is noticeable in their interpretation of all the traditional Christian teaching about being good to others: the only others who count are those who are part of "us", and it's absurd to think of loving one's worldly neighbour as oneself. It's almost like racism, in that anything can be excused because the others are in some vague but real way not considered to be people but something a little lower than that. And any goodness seen outside is like the proverbial dancing bear, remarkable in that it exists rather than on its own merits.

So inside opinions and feelings are all that count in everyday life. That's enough to make brethren dress and behave distinctively, for instance, as the possibility of being seen to be out of line by one fellow-member is enough to outweigh being definitely wondered at by any number of non-brethren. For most, it's not an inner certainty that the behaviour is the only right way that governs what they do, but simple peer pressure. That doesn't always work to the hierarchy's advantage, naturally, because trivial things often become "the thing to do" whether or not they're approved, in the way that fads spread in any community, and sometimes control needs to be seized back by means of some kind of decree.

I sometimes wonder what proportion of the brethren are really convinced by the lifestyle and doctrines, and have a feeling that a majority secretly suspect they're the only fraud among a crowd of genuine believers. That, of course, only magnifies the urge to fit in at any cost. People often take the most drastic actions when they suspect others are right to accuse them of not really believing.

Getting Real

Without any doubt at all, I have experienced an attitude shift. It hurts, really, and I am thankful that I have loving support elsewhere, and that I am able to step back and regard the process as a fascinating education, intellectually, which helps with the emotional side.

It seems that the brethren, and particularly those who remain relatively close, are beginning to accept, at last, that I am not likely to return. What surprises me a bit is how personally they take it. Their beliefs are so entwined with their self-image that they cannot conceive that a rejection of their lifestyle might not be a rejection of them personally. Saying so is wasted because they can't take it in and hardly seem to hear it.

Last night I was treated to a lengthy analogy of my situation when I spoke about not knowing where the boundaries of contact were. Suppose, I was told, I was married and conducted an adulterous affair. Would I expect my wife to treat me the same as before and happily share the time I could spare her from my affair? Or even greet me cordially and continue to share news?

They hastened to say, of course, that they didn't see me that way, but it left a nasty feeling that it wouldn't take much for it to go in that direction.

That analogy reveals a lot, I think. For brethren, it is impossible to share a person without sharing their opinions. Their opinions, in some sense, are who they feel themselves to be. If I engage in some activity they do not approve of, it seems to remain their business whatever my stated position, because they somehow feel each action is taken against them. So this recent development is apparently a result of me choosing to socialise with non-brethren - it doesn't matter that my only choices for socialising are non-brethren or nobody. My choice of non-brethren is felt to be a specific and hurtful rejection of the brethren.

That, then, appears also to justify being hurtful in return, in the painful and semi-spiteful way that people who deep down love each other can be when they feel slighted.

It does show how powerless I am to make things better from my side. If my life, lived normally, morally and enjoyably by common standards, is a continual prodding of the brethren's sore points, no amount of soothing words from me will change how they feel. If I knew - for sure - that disappearing from sight would make them feel better, I'd do it, however painful it would be to experience complete shut-out. But still I'm unsure what to do for the best.

Equine Extravaganza

Chalk up one more of the things brethren never do. I went to a sort of circus on Saturday. I don't know that such a thing has ever occurred to me before.

I say "sort of" circus; it was a horse-based affair, and I was expecting stunning trickery on horseback in a big top. And I was partly right. But in any case, it was obviously pure entertainment, with no moral value, and as such is something that's only newly OK in my life. I can't imagine what harm anyone would see in such a thing, really, except that you are sharing that entertainment with a large crowd, and it could hardly be called essential to life, watching people ride horses cleverly.

Actually, it was less a show and more a drama. I couldn't help feeling that it would have been better if they hadn't tried to force a structure onto what they did, particularly as the structure frequently collapsed under the strain. There were as many human dancers as horses, including a ballerina, which was not unwelcome but not what I was expecting, and a kind of multiple story.

It started as a bit of Greek mythology, in which a fallen muse (the ballerina) seeks Pegasus so as to regain ... something or other I didn't quite follow, but it was very important. Meanwhile an evil spirit tries to get in first. The ballerina needed to understand the mind and spirit of "the horse" before she could find Pegasus, and that justified, dramatically, people making their horses dance and do tricks. Which they proceeded to do. I'm no horse person, so I probably wasn't as impressed as I could have been, but I could see how well it was done while having some grasp of how difficult it was.

It was a bit harder to see how the mythical story justified Spanish dancing with horses, and a Dad's Army WWII interlude with a comic horse the size of a large dog, but, hey, it's all part of the show.

I was also keen on some of the costuming: Pegasus was impressive, and the evil spirit was great, a dragon supported by three people and constructed from deliberately tatty black fabric so that it looked only partly there, with a mouth that swung open and closed in time to the thumping music. Combined with a smoke machine and plenty of coloured spotlights, it worked very well.

And we did get the tricksy horseriders after the interval. Mongolians, apparently, who swung dizzyingly in and out of their saddles at the gallop, sometimes backwards or underneath the horse, sometimes two to one horse and other times one person standing on two horses. In one case, all the other horses galloped under one of the rider's legs while he straddled a pair of them. So I didn't feel short-changed. The drama was fun, but it would have been disappointing if that had been all.

I'm struggling to think of a brethren connection here to justify writing about this, but who cares. I can't even get too interested in why it would be so wrong for them to attend such an event.

Ups and Downs

Early this morning I was feeling very positive, as I have done for days. Life is good on the whole, although naturally there are worries and sadnesses. Last night I discovered friends living closer to me than anybody else I know, and had a long catch-up chat. The road ahead was looking bathed in a springtime glow, in spite of the season.

Then I was shocked to be asked at work whether it had been my car in a pub and restaurant carpark on the way home the previous Friday. Of course it was, and I said so (my car is quite noticeable). A non-brethren colleague retired last week after fourteen years with the company, and the other non-brethren staff joined him for a drink and a general wishing of luck in his retirement, me included.

Apparently this was bad.

I was mystified and quite disturbed to be asked how such an activity fitted in to the brethren principles, and answered that I thought it was understood that there were many of those principles I had deliberately left behind me. It seems that saying so, and being seen to follow through with actual real behaviour, are two different things. More disturbing than that was that I had the feeling that it wouldn't have been so bad if it had been any other non-brethren I was socialising with, but the fact it had been work colleagues was a kind of betrayal of an unspoken apartheid. I had the distinct feeling of having been recatagorised from "us" to "them". Obviously I had always intended that, in a way, but it still wasn't a very nice feeling.

So, triggered by something as innocuous as that, it may be that my time as a comfortable honorary member of the brethren, treated with the same old familiarity and friendliness as before, is coming to an end. If I consort with non-brethren staff, I cannot occupy the same office as the brethren staff, and my desk must move. Because of that, my job role will have to alter as I will no longer be in the thick of the daily goings-on.

Actually, that's no bad thing. I hated joining the main office, anyway, as I don't work best surrounded by other people. What's more, the tasks that rely on me being among everybody else are the ones that most annoy me and stop the serious work getting done. And the alternative work area has prettier views.

Still, it leaves a bad taste, only slightly masked by the way that the remainder of the day carried on as cheerfully and normally as ever. I think wisdom would dictate that I begin speeding up the trawl for alternative work, and I will see what next week holds.

Test of Separation

Yesterday my newspaper reported a survey in which seventy-five percent of the British population said that they didn't get enough hugs.

Well, I can't say I'm surprised. That never applied in my parents' home, though. A day without a hug was rare, even though I often had the impression we were unusual in that respect. We were a close family, and I imagine they still are.

Notice that last sentence. "We" followed by "they". It's been three months now, and that doesn't get any easier. I've had regular visits from brethren, and have been told that the visiting stream would be more or less continuous if I hadn't told them I needed some time and space to myself, but the people I care for most have stayed away, with three exceptions. I've had the feeling that it wasn't for me to push, that if they wanted contact, they'd come to me, and if I tried to force the issue then they'd back away. I don't want to cause trouble for people I love, so I've kept low-key. Besides, some of the family, I know, find the situation so painful that I'm not sure whether seeing me in my changed position would make it better or worse.

But this week, I've been encouraged twice. A broad hint came my way on my birthday that those I've been worrying most about are waiting for me to call as much as I've been waiting for a signal it's OK. Then my last pair of brethren visitors said that they didn't think anyone would ever have the right to stop me seeing my family.

To me, that's a new doctrine for the brethren. It's also only part of the answer, because if my family find it too painful, seeing me, I still won't want that. Still, it's good news.

The signs appear to be, taken together, that I ought to be able to enjoy a near-normal relationship with those I care for who have remained behind the fortress wall. I'm having trouble believing that as, if so, I'll be the first person ever in the history of people leaving the brethren to achieve such a relationship - and what a long and tangled history that is. I still think that there will be reasons and circumstances to prevent much contact, especially any kind that shows affection. However, I am feeling bolder about applying the test. A hug would be nice, but I'd settle for friendly chat.

Sympathy Deficiency

Something has been puzzling me for a while, and it has just turned the corner to being disturbing. A subject which keeps cropping up is a negative one: sickness and death, and attitudes to it.

What's disturbing is not the subject itself, nor the fact of it occurring, but that there is a difference in my feelings on the subject and others', and that has only just become apparent to me.

What I am beginning to realise is that the brethren are very unusual in being quite matter-of-fact about this whole area. For brethren, there is nothing extraordinary about illness, or hospital visits, or dying. That's not to say that they're callous about suffering - far from it - but just that the emotion is rarely anywhere near overwhelming, and it is more usually considered a sad but expected part of life. This seems so normal to me that it has come as a shock to realise that such things are viewed very differently here on the outside.

I like to think I'm fairly sensitive. That may be somewhat self-deluding, but still it was sad to discover that I wasn't showing the proper degree of sympathy to somebody about to have a hip replacement. To me, this was one of those things which calls for a kind of "I see, well, good luck - I hope it all goes well" reaction. I know dozens of people who've had hip replacements - know them personally, I mean. It's routine surgery these days, and in all those cases I've never heard of any complications. One old lady I know had her surgery under local anaesthetic and insisted on viewing the old joint before the medical people threw it away, just to see if it was anything like the illustration in a children's book on the body.

Apparently, though, this was serious surgery, the kind which warrants special visits and care and compassion for the family. Of course it does, you may say, but it's the attitude behind it which seems so different to me. In my old world, all that would follow, but more because somebody will be missing from their family for that brief time, and then because they'll need a hand doing some things afterwards ... not because it's something scary and unknown. Real worry levels are reserved for things like brain and cancer surgery.

Then it was also disturbing to confess in conversation that I've been to so many funerals in my life that sometimes my first reaction (quickly and ashamedly suppressed) has been annoyance at the time needed in a busy life to attend it, and find that this was an utterly shocking thing to feel, never mind admit to.

I've been trying to tease out where the difference lies.

Partly, I think, it's to do with sheer familiarity. The more I consider the matter, the more important that seems to be. The other aspect is the religious faith, which says that anyone dying has gone to a better place and a happier condition, and that bodily suffering is good for the soul and a sign of God's love. That has to be significant, and it is. Many people have been comforted by that belief as they are struggling to overcome sudden gaps in their lives.

But still, it is familiarity which brings contempt. The thing is, that if you know around five hundred people very well indeed, and spend a large part of your life around them, with a few thousand more as acquaintances and a grapevine covering a yet wider circle, you will inevitably rub up against sickness and death in many forms, and very regularly. It's hard to maintain emotional depth in such circumstances, and only sudden untimely death or particularly grisly illness or special closeness or cuteness can boost the impact to levels that the relatively protected outsider would consider normal. I've no doubt that the medical profession suffers the same dulling of sensitivity.

It's a confusing problem. I feel privileged in many ways to have experienced so much of life in that respect, and to have made my peace with death knowing exactly what it means and looks like, besides having seen human fortitude at close quarters and learned from it. I hadn't realised there was a cost, but evidently there is, and I now have a dulled capacity for sympathy, which is hard to accept.

Probably only time will allow me to strike the balance better.

Celebrations

It's been a while. You know how it is: man leaves restrictive religion, man gets plenty of free time to obsess over what he's done and why, months pass and other interests take over, man gets less and less of that free time and more and more other things to think about. Well, maybe that's generalising too much.

Still, yesterday was a birthday, and that's a good point to take stock.

My birthday used to be a big thing back when I was small, and my parents provided wonderful gifts, cakes and low-key parties with friends. But among the brethren, birthdays are frivolous events for children, and celebrating them is a bit suspect even if not actually forbidden. I'm not sure how much of my attitude is left over from that, but I can't much be bothered with the anniversary of the day I was born. It seems very arbitrary as a celebration. One day a while ago it occurred to me that it would be much more meaningful to celebrate my ten-thousandth day alive, and I was most annoyed to discover that I'd thought of it two months too late.

Digressing a little, I have a similar problem with Christmas. I get the impression a lot of ex-brethren feel the same - that it's a kind of plastic occasion, composed of cloying sentiment, compulsory fun and tacky accessories. That's how it looks from outside, though I can accept that it's special for some people, especially if they have family traditions. I imagine that my activities this year will take their cue from friends and people special to me, and I will enjoy them for their sake, and maybe learn to get enjoyment myself. A minor hurdle.

That was a little like this birthday. Left to myself, I would have let it pass unnoticed, not liking to be the focus of attention, but others helped to make a little occasion of it and I was very touched.

On Saturday four of us met at my place and had mini cakes (complete with candles!) and some champagne I had been saving, before taking a bus to a Guy Fawkes celebration. That's another thing that brethren frown upon, and consequently I had worked for some years in this little village, and heard a lot about its locally-legendary bonfire, without ever having been. It's even more popular than I thought it was, and my decision to take the bus was definitely justified by the scary queues of cars waiting to park miles from the village. We were blessed with mild clear weather, and it was well worth going, I thought. Hopefully the others felt the same.

The village is a real one, with a green and a stone church, and a bridge you cross to get in, and all the little details you expect to see on a postcard or in one of those heritage magazines. Every year the villagers build a bonfire about forty feet high (it used to be bigger before health and safety rules), and put a stuffed guy on top while thousands of people watch, then a procession of people with torches light the thing. All quite impressive, especially when the guy explodes. There is also a very entertaining firework display, with quirky little touches such as dedicated individual fireworks paid for by people happy birthdays, loving memories etc. A lot is in the atmosphere, which is really good. Obviously a lot of people do enjoy it, because they announced that thirty thousand pounds' worth of display is paid for by the car park charges and catering, while voluntary donations raised twenty-five thousand for local charities the previous year. Not bad at all.

OK, so Saturday was the wrong day, but that was my celebration, and it's more than I've done for years. In the two days since, I've had a relaxing time, so it felt like a three-day birthday at least. All very special, more special than I can say. The world has some lovely people in it.