heroes – Lion's Whiskers

Courage Book Review: Beautiful Souls

Thu, 21 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve just finished reading Beautiful Souls: Saying No, Breaking Ranks, and Heeding the Voice of Conscience in Dark Times, by Eyal Press (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2012). This book shares the stories of several people in different times and different walks of life who demonstrated moral courage at great risk: a Swiss border officer who defied the law to help Jews flee from Nazi oppression; a Serb soldier who “identified” Croat prisoners as Serbian to save them from genocide; an Israeli soldier refusing to serve in the Occupied Territories; a financial adviser blowing the whistle on a Ponzi scheme that was bilking thousands of investors of their life savings; a U.S. military prosecutor questioning the treatment of Muslim POWs at Guantanamo Bay. Press interviewed all of these people, trying to dig to the bottom of what causes “ordinary” people to make decisions that turn them into rebels, renegades or outliers. It’s fascinating reading, although somewhat disconcerting. Although Hollywood would have us believe that the moral hero rides into the sunset to the sounds of a grand and inspiring soundtrack, none of these actual moral heroes obeyed their conscience without paying a heavy price.

Press points out that at the very least, refusing to conform stirs anger and resentment among those who are conforming. If you and I are both members of Group A, and I announce that the activities of Group A are morally questionable or even evil, then by implication you accept their validity if you don’t walk out with me. What is striking about the people in these profiles is that they were almost all people who fervently upheld the values and principles of their group originally; it was that very conviction that led them to break ranks when those values became distorted or poisoned. As the military prosecutor poignantly stated, his sworn duty to protect the U.S. Constitution made it impossible for him to accept what he saw without speaking out. Yet the consequences for all these conscientious resistors were significant: social exclusion, financial ruin, loss of security, loss of faith in previously esteemed institutions.

It is difficult to read these stories without feeling some misgivings about moral courage and the price it exacts. Does raising a child to be a good citizen of the world, who has conviction, integrity, and an audible conscience place that child at risk? In my opinion it does, and yet I also hear my own conscience telling me it’s the right thing for me to do.

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The Prototype of Courage

Thu, 10 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Here’s another reason why sharing stories that illustrate all six types of courage with your kids may be a very constructive project. As children develop and acquire language, they are actively engaged in concept formation (which of course began in infancy). What is “dog” or “chair” or “jumping” or “soft”? These are all concepts that are learned through exposure to a wide variety of examples. Each exposure helps the child refine the prototype, the essence or ideal, if you will, of “dog” “chair” “jumping” and “soft” based on what is common among all the examples of the concept.

It works like this: If a child has experience of many different sorts of dogs, her prototype of the concept “dog” may end up as something of medium stature, with an affectionate nature and an appetite for long walks – something like a Labrador retriever (not surprisingly one of the most popular of breeds.) Generic or stylized signs for dogs generally show an animal of medium stature and average proportions, rather than a wasp-waisted whippet or a low-slung Basset hound. If the child sees primarily Chihuahuas and Yorkshire terriers, her prototype might be something decidedly smaller, more nervous, and more inclined to sit on laps than your average Labrador. (I am reminded of an anecdote I heard recently about a young boy whose mother was a lawyer with many women attorneys in her social set; the son disdained the idea of practicing law as a career since it was something “only girls do.”)

If children form a prototype of the concept “courage” based on a narrow range of examples (e.g. only police officers or soldiers or firefighters) might they find it harder to recognize other types of courage in themselves or others? I can’t find any academic studies supporting this, but it would certainly be an interesting investigation.

As I wrote earlier in a post on more evidence on the power of stories, researchers find more sophisticated “theory of mind” in children who listen to or read a lot of stories. Theory of mind is the ability to imagine what might be going on in another person’s head. Some researchers contend that theory of mind may be critical to forming certain concepts. For an abstract concept such as “courage” it may be necessary for a child to imagine the mental states of different people undergoing challenges. In other words, theory of mind may allow a child to infer that a given situation is frightening or difficult for another person, and thus allow additional material for forming the prototype of “courage.”

A recent article in Psychology Today also proposes that imagining other people’s choices clarifies our own. When faced with a choice we have never had to make before, we summon our mental prototype of a person who would made that choice. If that prototype is something we aspire to (i.e. courageous action), we may make the choice in a way that matches the prototype. Much as many Evangelical Christians use the motto, “What would Jesus do?”to guide their decisions, we prompt ourselves to conform to a standard that we wish to match. If we have allowed ourselves and our children to form a prototype that encompasses all six types of courage, can we hope that we will be better able to rise to the challenge when it meets us on the path, in whatever form it takes? If courage resides in the hearts of such diverse heroes as Horatio, Br’er Rabbit, and Lady Godiva, the prototype of courage our children take with them through their lives may be as nuanced as our complex world requires.

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Horatio at the Bridge

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

One of the very popular tropes in action films is the lone fighter making a courageous last stand in order to buy time for others to get to safety. “Go! Save yourselves!” is the command through gritted teeth. “I’ll stay and hold them off as long as I can!” Typically the odds are wildly against this hero: an entire army, a savage monster, a powerful wizard. “He’s never gonna make it,” someone in the retreating party will mourn. “I’ll never meet anyone braver than him!”

It’s a popular tradition in stories of physical courage. One of the most enduring versions that has been told again and again since Roman times is the legend of Horatio at the Bridge.

The mighty army of the Etruscans was marching toward Rome, which was still a young and small city. Farmers and villagers from the surrounding countryside had fled in advance of the enemy, streaming across the bridge that spanned the river Tiber, seeking shelter within Rome’s walls. “But what happens if the Etruscans cross the bridge?” the people wailed. “They will tear down our walls and destroy us!”

A troop of Roman soldiers stood guard on the bridge, hearts pounding with suspense. At last, over the crest of a hill showed a line of spears that grew taller and taller as the advancing soldiers marched forward. The army came on inexorably, massive and terrible, the tramp of their feet booming like thunder. Rome’s walls could not withstand an assault by such a force.

Among the soldiers stood young Horatio, tall and proud. “We must tear down the bridge,” he said to his companions.

“There’s no time, Horatio!”

“Tear it down, I’ll hold them off,” he replied, gripping his shield straps tight in his fist. While the other soldiers raced to the safe side of the river and began hacking at the wooden bridge, the vanguard of the Etruscan army came within shouting distance.

“Who among you will fight in single combat!” Horatio cried, evoking the epic battle between Achilles and Hector before the gates of Troy. “One soldier of Rome stands to fight your whole army! Who among you will do the honor?! Or are you an army of slaves, ordered to die by a tyrant?”

The Etruscans hung back, unsure how to proceed. Horatio could hear the frantic chopping behind him, and the groaning creak as weakened bridge timbers began to sag. From among the ranks of the Etruscans, someone threw a dart, hitting Horatio in the eye. Emboldened, the enemy surged forward, and several spears flew toward the lone hero. Horatio warded them off with his shield. Then, as he heard the bridge collapse with a great splash into the Tiber behind him, he dove into the river.

The Romans who watched this show of bravery turned their faces away in grief. Their city was saved, but how could Horatio survive falling blinded into the flooded Tiber in full armor? “Wait! Look there!” came a triumphant shout. And there, swimming powerfully across the churning river, was Horatio. Cheers of victory greeted him when he reached the Roman shore, and forever afterward he was hailed as one of the greatest heroes of the Republic.

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Carnegie Heroes

Thu, 12 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

If you ever want to give your faith in humanity a boost, take a look at the hero profiles on the Carnegie Hero Fund Commission’s website. What is the Carnegie Hero Fund Commission you ask? From their website:

The two-fold mission of the Carnegie Hero Fund Commission: To recognize persons who perform acts of heroism in civilian life in the United States and Canada, and to provide financial assistance for those disabled and the dependents of those killed helping others.

Reading these profiles is truly inspiring, and you may begin to notice some themes running through these stories of ordinary citizens who performed extraordinary acts of courage – usually on behalf of strangers. Many of these heroes credit their family relationships with giving them the core belief that every life is worth saving. The influence of parents is clear in profile after profile. The youngest medal recipients of 2011, three teenage Florida boys who saved a woman from drowning, explicitly credit their parents. “I grew up with my dad helping people,” one of the young heroes told reporters. This is the influence of family connection and strong attachment.

A second theme is the influence of rehearsal, either mental rehearsal or actual practice. Another teen medal recipient credited the self-discipline he learned in baseball practice with helping him rescue a drowning man. Other recipients cite safety drills in childhood, or hearing stories of courage and service to others with inspiring them and encouraging them to act. It is because of this rehearsal that heroes are able to act “without thinking.” The thinking happens ahead of time.

A third theme I observed in these profiles was gratitude – not the gratitude of the people whose lives were saved, although of course that’s there! – but the gratitude of each of these heroes to have been able to help! That is a truly beautiful thing, in my opinion.

So do yourself a favor and read a few of these profiles. Share them with your kids. Who knows? Maybe one day the Carnegie folks will be honoring you.

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St. Ailbe and the Wolf

Tue, 03 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Among the values that social courage can help us promote in our children are compassion, tolerance, caring and charity. These are the values we exhibit in the social realm in our behavior to others. Here is a wonderful legend from Ireland that demonstrates these values. Compare it to the legend of St. Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio, or Androcles and the Lion. It also fits in the same tradition of foundling heroes we’ve discussed on this blog before.

Long and long ago in Ireland, almost so long ago the wood that built the first harp was still a green twig, a poor couple had a boy baby and couldn’t keep him – that’s how poor they were. Without knowing what else to do, they left him on a hillside and hastened away in shame. It wasn’t long after that that a she-wolf was trotting by, and her keen ears caught the sound of a cry. Her nose led her to a heather bush, and there lay a pink, furless pup, or so she thought. It wasn’t like her own pups, but she picked him up carefully – Ailbe was his name, though how was she to know it? – and brought him along back to her den to suckle him beside the others. Ailbe soon grew strong and hale, and ran four-legged with his brother wolves. If his wolf-mother sometimes thought him a strange creature with fur nowhere but his head, she loved him all the same.

Two years of wolf-life Ailbe had. Then (as fate would have it) a horseman was riding over the heath one day and spied the boy, running on all fours across the green. So far from human habitation they were that the prince (for he was a prince, as fate would have it) knew the child must be a foundling. He chased the little thing and caught him up, kicking and screaming and howling for his mother. The she-wolf, hearing her odd child wailing in fear, came bounding over the crest of the hill, and her four big grown wolf-sons with her. The prince took one look at the rushing pack and put his horse to the gallop, still holding the howling child. Mile upon mile the wolves chased the prince, their hearts bursting with the effort to rescue their brother and son. But the horse was a swift one (as fate would have it) and the wolves finally dropped with exhaustion, raising their last mournful howls as the prince disappeared over the horizon.

It took a while, as you can well imagine, for Ailbe to understand he was a human, and learn good human speech and walk upright. His new mother – third mother – the princess was kind and wise and the prince was fair and good, and Aible grew to honest manhood and took priest’s robes. He preferred the solitary life of contemplation, for human company still uneased him, and he took no pleasure in men’s sports. Hunting was especially disturbing to him: the sound of the hunter’s horn reminded him of a howling wolf.

Indeed one day the mournful wail of the horn carried to his ears a sound so familiar that he ran out the door, looking left and right. There – there! Running toward him, gaunt and terrified, ran an old she-wolf, and four more old wolves panting beside her. Ailbe knelt in the road and opened his arms to her, for he knew her and somehow (how can we understand such mysteries as life offers?) she knew him as well, her strange little pup now a grown man and priest besides. With his wolf family beside him, Ailbe stood straight and strong and ordered the hunters to turn aside. And ever after, until the end of their days, the wolves were welcome in Ailbe’s hall, and ate from his table, and were never harmed nor hounded.

Special thanks to acclaimed storytellers, Jennings and Ponder, for bringing this story to my attention.
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Flourishing or Withering on the Vine

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Lisa’s recent post describing how moral courage has its roots in empathy had me thinking. What about those times when empathy is blighted or stunted? What becomes of moral courage then? We can look back into history to find periods of what we might call “low empathy” – times when public torture and execution were carnival attractions, when heavy-handed corporal punishment of children or slaves/serfs/servants was commonplace, when mockery and abuse of the disabled was the stuff of fun and games, when might made right, life was cheap, and persecution of selected out-groups was sanctioned by law. Under these conditions, how did “moral action” occur? How did the “family” of humanity uphold mostly positive behavior and tend toward care and flourishing rather than harm? In other words, how did the family make enough “right” or “good” decisions to survive in these times? We are born hard-wired for empathy, but someone has to teach us how to turn it on. As a gardener, I think of it in gardening terms, and so I see empathy as a seedling that must be nurtured and cultivated, or the flower can wither on the vine. How did this plant stay alive under some of the harsh conditions history has witnessed?

We might infer at least two things about this from a quick glance back at history. First, it is clear that there were often eras when civilizations did not flourish, but declined into darkness or anarchy. Historically, periods of chaos were often precipitated by environmental assaults (famines, plagues, extreme climate events such as prolonged droughts) or social upheavals (invasions, wars, and revolutions political, ideological, or technological). Often the social catastrophes followed hard on the heels of the environmental ones, magnifying the disruptive effect of both, and the chaos prompted by these crises sometimes took many generations to recover from. Scarcity of resources can narrow the scope of our empathy from concern for all others, to concern just for those most like us, to those closest to us, and finally, to ourselves alone.

Secondly, we can see that extremely domineering law/justice systems (autocratic kingly dynasties, strict or wrathful theologies and political dogmas) can enforce good or “moral” behavior, or at least constrain immoral behavior, but primarily by threat of punishment (in this life or after), rather than by promoting empathy. This suggests a tendency to rigidly adhere to the letter of the law, ignoring the spirit behind it. Just as toddlers obey rules because they fear punishment, rather than because they have internalized the “spirit of the law” or the values behind the rules (fairness, accountability, cooperative flourishing, etc.), societies held in check by a totalitarian or despotic state or ideology can easily devolve into anarchy when that system collapses. (Remember Yugoslavia, to cite just one example from recent history?) A breakdown in empathy, or concern for others, which is prompted by disruption, upheaval and fear (on the family level or the societal level) may thus compel the parent or the state to lay down stricter and stronger rules/laws and punishments. This is a downward spiral that takes significant moral courage to reverse.

Yet it is out of scenarios such as this that great moral heroes can emerge, from some hidden garden where the seeds of empathy were kept watered and sheltered. Because the norm in these scenarios is low empathy, these moral heroes almost seem to appear by superhuman agency, giving rise to mythologies and heroic legends. Yet we all have the capacity for empathy, and thus for moral courage. When times get tough we can run for cover and let the Devil take the hindmost, or we can stand our ground and focus on raising good citizens of the world. How does your garden grow?

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Raising a Good Citizen of the World

Sun, 16 Oct 2011 00:00:00 +0000

“I’ve learned that courage and compassion are two sides of the same coin, and that every warrior, every humanitarian, every citizen is built to live with both. In fact, to win a war, to create peace, to save a life, or just to live a good life requires of us—every one of us—that we be both good and strong.”

~ Eric Greitens, Author of The Heart and The Fist: The Education of a Humanitarian, The Making of a Navy Seal (2011)

So, what’s a parent to do to help raise a good citizen in this world?
Let’s face it our kids need to be equipped to be able handle increasingly complex moral issues involving a multitude of cultures participating together in a global economy (stacked precariously on questionable foundations), with exponential population growth, and environmental concerns that don’t leave any corner of our globe unaffected. The ripple effect of our daily decisions from how treat our neighbor, to whether to vote or not, to where we spend our money, to how we deal with our garbage now send ripples farther and wider than ever before in history. Learning to solve our planet’s problems in sustainable, cooperative ways is more important than ever!

Here are Dr. Lisa’s suggestions to consider:

Nurture a strong, secure, and loving bond with your child from infancy through adolescence. Through this bond, you can become a powerful mentor for your child—especially during tough times.
Show empathy and compassion for others. Share out loud your curiosity about how others feel, think, believe, and live. Make it okay to discuss differences and notice all the similarities the human family shares.
Offer lots of opportunities through family time and socialization opportunities for your child to develop care and concern for others, their community, and the environment.
Model the values you wish your child to embrace: honesty, kindness, etc.
Define the values that matter to you as a family, notice them in your everyday life,  discuss why they are important to you? Pick a value a week, like those Lion’s Whiskers associates most with moral courage:

·         Loyalty

·         Trust

·         Honesty

·         Integrity

·         Accountability

·         Responsibility

·         Fairness

·         Impartiality

·         Justice.
Show self-discipline in creating the kind of life you wish them to emulate.
Teach goal-setting and decision-making skills.
Discuss and weigh the pros and cons associated with simple and complex moral dilemmas involving not only “right vs. wrong,” but also even more complicated “right vs. right” or “wrong vs. wrong” scenarios.
Show respect for yourself and others, especially your children.
Put the Six Types of Courage into action—let your child witness you walking your talk, taking personal responsibility, and having the courage to stand up for what you believe in.
Embrace a multicultural perspective for what is good and right in this world—you don’t have to eat, marry, or pray like others, but you can still model respect and tolerance for differences. You can venture to be curious about, seek to understand, and even embrace different cultural beliefs as appropriate.
Model what a good citizen is for your child, and work together to make your family, community, and the world-at-large a better place to live. Seek out lots of opportunities to do good and be charitable in the world together.
Pick a cause you believe in to contribute your time, money, signatures, and care to as a family.
Praise your child when they act in ways that are moral, good, and in sync with your family values.
Provide a community of like-minded friends, family members, teachers, religious and/or civic leaders for your child to learn from.
Tell stories from your own life or those of moral courage heroes you respect.
Read traditional moral tales (this is a link to Jennifer’s bookshelf) and discuss the life lessons they understand imbedded within the story. Jennifer regularly provides tales to choose from in her previous posts, too! Just click on this link to find a treasure trove of moral courage stories to share. Help them put into their own words the moral of the story, see if they can offer an example from their own life when they’ve had to “never give up,” “do the right thing,” “tell the truth,” or “be loyal to a friend”. Highlight future opportunities for them to put into practice the particular value you wish them to emulate. Narvaez, Gleason, Mitchell, and Bentley (1999) caution parents and teachers that simply reading moral stories to children does not guarantee their understanding of the core moral message. In the imagination of a five year-old, a story like The Little Engine That Could (1930), the “Little Engine” could be faced with the nonmoral theme (one highly related to courage) of simply never giving up. A nine year-old reader, on the other hand, may relate to the underlying moral lesson pertaining to importance of perseverance in order to help others. As children mature, and their prefrontal cortex continues to develop into young adulthood, they are capable of increasingly complex interpretations and better able to identify complex moral dilemmas and a story’s underlying moral message.

For more guidance about how to help your child become a responsible citizen, Navaraez (2005) helped develop this downloadable book, thanks to funding from the U.S. Department of Education and the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001.

How are you raising your child to be a good citizen? We’d love to hear your ideas, too!

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Courage Book Review – Why Courage Matters, by John McCain

Mon, 10 Oct 2011 00:00:00 +0000

In Why Courage Matters: The Way to a Braver Life we have a small, accessible book for adult readers (or teen readers, of course) by Senator John McCain with Mark Salter. McCain has been rightly honored for the courage he demonstrated as a POW, and regardless of your political opinions of his public service in the U.S. Congress, his is a voice of experience on this issue. He brings to this exploration of courage a not suprising inclination to praise military heroism, but there’s much more than that. One thing that I like about this book is that he does discuss courage as something for parents to heed, and to strive to develop in their children. He offers many examples from history of tremendous courage, from soldiers on the front lines to civil rights activists using nonviolent disobedience to further their cause. I have three takeaways from the book:

1. Courage must be voluntary. We must make a choice to overcome the challenge before us, and move through and beyond the fear that faces us. Even when we are faced with a challenge we can’t escape, such as an illness, the choice of how we face it is ours to make.

2. Courage is contagious. When we have the example of a courageous person before us, it inspires us to greater courage ourselves. (His description of how POWs encouraged and inspired each other to continue resistance is very moving.) Offer your kids models of courage from traditional tales and true stories. They can strive to deserve the courage of those heroes who went before them.

3. The people whom McCain portrays as examples of courage have only one thing in common: fear. As we have said all along, courage is not the absence of fear, it is going forward despite fear.

In summing up, McCain corroborates what we have said on Lion’s Whiskers many times. When you give your kids opportunities to practice courage, whether with courage challenges, courage workouts, or by setting an example that your kids can see every day, you help them build their courage for the challenges on the path ahead.

“If you do the things you think you cannot do, you’ll feel your resistance, your hope, your dignity and your courage grow stronger every time you prove it. You will some day face harder choices that very well might require more courage. You’re getting ready for them. You’re getting ready to have courage.”

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Courage Quote of the Day

Wed, 13 Jul 2011 00:00:00 +0000

“My heroes are and were my parents. I can’t see having anyone else as my heroes.”~ Michael Jordan

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Meat of the Tongue

Thu, 12 May 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Okay, by now some readers may be ready to give up on me and my fairy tales and legends. “Too late,” they’ll say. “Didn’t do that when the kids were small, and now that they are reading on their own they don’t want to read these things. They’re too old for bedtime stories, even if Einstein thought they should read them.”

Allow me to paraphrase a traditional tale from Kenya, called Meat of the Tongue. A ruler was alarmed because his wife was thin and sickly and weak. Looking around, he saw that a humble tailor had a robust and healthy wife, and asked, what was the secret? “Meat of the tongue,” replied the tailor. So the ruler ordered all manner of tongue meat for his wife – wildebeest tongue, lamb tongue, gazelle tongue, even ostrich tongue – none of it availed. In desperation, the ruler asked the tailor to swap wives for a month, to see if that might bring his wife to better health. Sure enough, the ruler’s wife was soon happy and smiling and putting on weight, while the tailor’s wife was looking sad and tired. “What is it, what is it?” the ruler demanded. “What is this meat of the tongue?”

As you might have figured out by now, meat of the tongue is talk. Meat of the tongue is the nourishment we get from tales told and listened to. The good news about this nutritious dish is it is never too late to thrive on it! If your kids think they are “too old” for fairy tales, try some other kind of story, but tell it. Half the magic is the connection between the teller and the listener, the voice and the ear, the parent and the child. Attachment isn’t only a concept for parents of infants. My voice telling stories was one of the primary tools I used to develop attachment between myself and my daughter, whom I adopted when she was eight.

Picture a teenager, angry, frustrated, grumbling at his computer because a virus is causing havoc among his files. Picture his parent later that day, maybe while walking to the car, maybe while unpacking groceries, taking three minutes to tell the story of the Trojan Horse: After ten fruitless years of siege, the Greeks are ready to go home. But clever Odysseus has a plan: the Greeks build a giant horse, wheel it to the gates of Troy, and then seem to retreat. Hidden inside the horse are Odysseus and his most trusted warriors. The Trojans, rejoicing at their defeat of the Greeks, drag the great offering into their city behind the high walls – and thus the fate of Troy was sealed. In less than three minutes, this teenager can see his predicament connecting him back, over thousands of years, to one of the greatest stories we have. That’s pretty rich meat. Traditional stories are sometimes referred to as “messages from our ancestors.” For myself, I would like to remain open to those messages, because there is wisdom there that may help me be a better person and a better parent.

Stories are portable and convertible, like those compact suitcases that can grow to twice their size by unzipping a zipper. You can make them short, you can make them long, you can put all sorts of things inside them and carry them around as you travel. On top of that, what matters as much as the content of that narrative suitcase is the structure. The architecture of story is part of the meaning. By becoming familiar with the narrative structure –introduction of conflict, development of conflict, resolution of conflict – we can see a way to give structure to our experience. Intellectual courage gives us the ability to see patterns in our experience and find what is significant.

“Meaning in a story reflects our belief that there is meaning in the universe, that no matter the disorder that frames our lives, in the center – in the place that reveals who we are – there is order.” These words were spoken by beloved children’s book author, Katherine Paterson, National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, Hans Christian Andersen Award Winner, Newbery winner, National Book Award winner – winner of too many accolades from around the world to list, so you can take her word for it! It’s never too late to learn that our stories are ours to shape. We are the authors of our own tales, and that connects us to all the other tales of the world. We are the heroes of own own stories. Let that give children courage. Let them grow strong on meat of the tongue.

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