Malcolm Gladwell’s modus operandi is to make outrageously counter-intuitive claims that people will talk about enough that they’ll buy his boss’s magazine, books and bobble-head likenesses. I find him likable and diverting but don’t take his claims very seriously. He’s a lot like Wired Magazine’s Chris Anderson, his sometimes sparring partner, which isn’t surprising as they work for the same magazine empire, Conde Nast Publications.

In his article, Gladwell takes a lot of potshots at social media. It’s easy to do. He picks Clay Shirky, another New York “Big Idea” guy as his rhetorical strawman now, claiming Shirky’s book “Here Comes Everybody” is the “bible of social-media movement.” Reading Gladwell, you kind of wish he’d get out of the echo box of circle-jerk New York Big Talkers (just getting out of the Conde Nast building’s cafeteria would be a good start).

Gladwell’s certainly right in that most of what passes for activism on Twitter and Facebook is ridiculous. Clicking a “Like” button or changing your profile image green doesn’t do much. He makes an important distinction between “weak ties” (Facebook “friends” who aren’t friends; Twitter campaigns that are risk-free) and “strong ties.” He cites the Civil Rights movement as a strong-tie phenomenon: the people who put themselves on the line tended to be those with close friends also putting themselves on the line.

What Gladwell misses is strong-tie organizing going on in social media. A lot of what’s happening over on QuakerQuaker is pretty strong-tie–it’s translating to workshops, articles, and is just one of a number of important networks that are forming. People are finding each other and making real connections that spill out into the real world. It’s not that online organizes creates real world changes, or even the reverse. Instead, under the right circumstances they can feed into each other, with each component magnifying the other’s reach.

One example of non-hierarchical involved social media is how Quaker bloggers came together to explain Tom Fox’s motives after his kidnapping. It didn’t have any effect on the kidnappers, obviously, but we did reach a lot of people who were curious why a Friend might choose such a personally dangerous form of Christian witness. This was all done by inter-related groups of people with no budget and no organizational chart. But these things don’t have to be quite so life-and-death.

A more recent example I’ve been able to see up close is the way my wife’s church has organized against diocesan attempts to shut it down: a core group of leaders have emerged; they share power, divide up roles and have been waging an organized campaign for about 2.5 years now. One element of this work has been the Savestmarys.org blog. The website’s only important because it’s been part of a real-world social network but it’s had an influence that’s gone far beyond the handful of people who write for it. One of the more surprising audiences have been the many staff at the Diocesan headquarters who visit every day–a small group has taken over quite a bit of mental space over there!

It’s been interesting for me to compare QuakerQuaker with an earlier peace project of mine, Nonviolence.org, which ran for thirteen years starting in 1995. In many ways it was the bigger site: a larger audience, with a wider base of interest. It was a popular site, with many visits and a fairly active bulletin board for much of it’s life. But it didn’t spawn workshop or conferences. There’s no “movement” associated with it. Donations were minimal and I never felt the support structure that I have now with my Quaker work.

Nonviolence.org was a good idea, but it was a “weak tie” network. QuakerQuaker’s network is stronger for two reasons that I can identify. The obvious one is that it’s built atop the organizing identity of a social group (Friends). But it also speaks more directly to its participants, asking them to share their lives and offering real-world opportunities for interaction. So much of my blogging on Nonviolence.org was Big Idea thoughts pieces about the situation in Bosnia–that just doesn’t provide the same kind of immediate personal entre.

Malcolm Gladwell minimizes the leadership structure of activist organizations, where leadership and power is in constant flux. He likewise minimizes the leadership of social media networks. Yes, anyone can publish but we all have different levels of visibility and influence and there is a filtering effect. I have twenty-five years of organized activism under my belt and fifteen years of online organizing and while the technology is very different, a lot of the social dynamics are remarkably similar.

Gladwell is an hired employee in one of the largest media companies in the world. It’s a very structured life: he’s got editors, publishers, copyeditors, proofreaders. He’s a cog in a company with $5 billion in annual revenue. It’s not really surprising that he doesn’t have much direct experience with effective social networks. It’s hard to see how social media is complementing real world grassroots networks from the 40th floor of a mid-town Manhattan skyscraper.

Related Reading:

• What Malcolm Gladwell Doesn’t Understand About Activism and Social Networks over on StudentActivism.net, via @public_historian.
• Friends and Hierarchy and Social Change. Jeanne Burns on QuakerQuaker.
• Make the Revolution from Anil Dash: “People who want to see marches in the streets are often unwilling to admit that those marches just don’t produce much in the way of results in America in 2010.”
• Social Media for Good and Evil, Strong and Weak Ties, Online/Offline,and Orgs and Networks from Beth Kantor

Loving God with All Our Hearts

My religion teaches me that the first commandment is to love God above all else. The primary mission of a religious community is to serve God and to facilitate the spiritual growth and discernment of its members in their search for God. For me, this needs to be an explicit goal of my meeting.

I very much appreciate James’s honesty that for him to use the term of “God” would be “misleading, even dishonest.” One of the central openings of Quakerism is that we should not profess an abstract understanding of God. We believe in the necessity for “deep and repeated baptisms” and for every testimony and act in the ministry to come from the “immediate influence of his Spirit” in a “fresh annointing” (wonderful language from a Irish memorial minute for Job Scott). I would wish that more Friends would follow James’s example and not speak without that immediate direct knowledge of the divine. (How many plenary speakers at Quaker events are reading from a prepared speech? How many of us really find ourselves turning to prayer when conflicts arise in business meeting?)

I don’t think one does need an experience of God to be a part of a Quaker community. Many of us go through dry spells where the Spirit’s presence seems absent and this certainly doesn’t disqualify us for membership. But God is the center of our faith and our work: worship is about listening to God’s call; business meeting is about discerning God’s instructions. This has to be understood. For those who can’t name God in their lives, it must be just a bit bizarre to come week after week to participate with a group of people praying for God’s guidance. But that’s okay. I think all that is good in our religious society come from the Great Master. We are known by our fruits and the outward forms of our witnesses constantly point back to God’s love. This is the only real outreach we do. I’m happy spending a lifetime laboring with someone in my community pointing out to the Spirit’s presence in our midst. All that we love about Quakers comes from that source but part of my discipline is the patience to wait for God to reveal Herself to you.

I joined Friends via the fairly common route of peace activism. I could sense that there was something else at work among the Quaker peace activists I knew and wanted to taste of that something myself. It’s taken me years to be able to name and articulate the divine presence I sensed fifteen years ago. That’s okay, it’s a normal route for some of us.

The other piece that the comments have been dancing around is Jesus. I’m at the point where I can (finally) affirm that Christianity is not accidental to Quakerism. As I’ve delved deeper I’ve realized just how much of our faith and work really does grow out of the teachings of Jesus. I don’t want to be part of a Friends meeting where our Quaker roots are largely absent. I want to know more about Friends, which means delving ever deeper into our past and engaging with it. We can’t do that without frequently turning to the Bible. Liberal Friends need to start exploring our Christian roots more fully and need to get more serious about reading Quaker writings that predate 1950. There have been many great figures in human history, but whatever you think about the divinity of Jesus, he has had much more of an impact on Quakerism than all of the heroes of American liberalism combined. We’ve got a Friend in Jesus and we’ve got to get on speaking arragements with him again if we’re going to keep this Quakerism going.

Shaking the Sandy Foundation

James asked if the regulars at Quaker Ranter wanted a purging. I certainly don’t want to kick anyone out but I don’t think some of the people currently involved in Quakerism would be with us if we were truer to our calling. We need to start talking honestly and have a round or two of truth-telling and plain speaking about what it means to be a Friend. Yes, there are some delicate people who are offended by terms like God and worship, Christ and obedience. And many have good reasons to be offended (as Julie pointed out to me this weekend, one of the greatest sins our religious and political leaders have done over the centuries is to commit evil in the name of God, for they not only committed that evil but have so scarred some seekers that they cannot come to God). One can know Jesus without using the name and God does hold us in His warm embrace even through our doubts. But for those of us lucky enough to know His name shouldn’t be afraid to use it.

Many people come to us sincerely as seekers, trying to understand the source of Quakers’ witness and spiritual grounding. I appreciate James’s asking “why I feel so irrestibly drawn to a community and religious society in which the central term is God.” As long as that’s where we start, I’m happy to be in fellowship.

But fellowship is an immediate relationship that doesn’t always last. There are people involved in Quakerism for reasons that are incidental to the mission of our religious society. We know the types: peace activists who seem to be around because Quakers have a good mailing list; Friends from ancient Quaker families who are around because they want to be buried out with great-grandma in the cemetery out back; twenty-something liberal seekers who like the openness and affability of Quakers. These are sandy foundations for religious faith and they will not necessarily hold. If Quakers started articulating our beliefs and recommitting ourselves to be a people of God, we will have those who will decide to drift away. They might be hurt when they realize their attraction to Quakerism was misplaced.

Naming the Trolls

We’ve all met people who have walked into a meetinghouse with serious disagreements with basic fundamental principles of Quakerism. This is to say we attract some loonies, or more precisely: visitors who have come to pick a fight. Most religious institutions show them the door. As Friends we have a proud tradition of tolerance but we’re too quick nowadays to let tolerance trump gospel order and destroy the “safe space” of our meetinghouse. This is a disservice to our community. Every so often we get someone who stands up to angrily denounce Christian language in a Quaker meeting. It’s fine to challenge an in-group’s unexamined pieties but I’m talking about those who try to get the meeting to censor ideas by claiming victimhood status whenever they hear a Christian worldview expressed. The person’s motivations for being there need to be questioned and they need to be lovingly labored with. We attract some people who deeply hurt and come with axes to grind. Some of them will use non-theism as their rallying call. When they are eldered they will claim it’s because of their philosophy, not their action. These kind of conflicts are messy, unpleasant and often confusing but we need to address them head on.

There are plenty of professing Christians who also need to be called on their disruptive behavior. They too would claim that any eldership is a reaction to their Christian theology. (Actually, I know more professing Christians than professing non-theists who should be challenged this way (Julie asked “who?” and I came up with a list of three right off the bat)). But there are disrupters of all flavors who will trumpet their martyrdom when Friends finally begin to take seriously the problems of detraction (a fine Quaker concept we need to revisit). If we suffer unfairly we need to be able to muster up a certain humility and obedience to the meeting, even if we’re sure it’s wrong. Again, it will be messy and all too-human but we need to work with each other on this one.

Sharing the Treasure

The real problem as I see it is not respectful non-theists among us: it’s those of us who have tasted of the bounty but hoard the treasure for ourselves. We hide the openings we’ve been given. A few weeks ago I was at yearly meeting sessions attended by some of the most recognized ministers in Philadelphia when a woman said she was offended by the (fairly tame) psalms we were asked to read. She explained “I’m used to Quakerese, Light and all that, and I don’t like all this language about God as an entity.” No one in that room stood to explain that these psalms _are one of the sources_ of our Quakerese and that the “Light” Friends have have been talking about for most of the past three and a half centuries is explicitly the Light _of Christ_. I don’t want to make too big a deal of this incident, but this kind of thing happens all the time: we censor our language to the point where it’s full of inoffensive double-meanings. Let’s not be afraid to talk in the language we have. We need to share the treasure we’ve been given.

Related Reading:

This post was inspired by James R’s comment, which I titled I Am What I Am. He was responding originally to my essay We’re All Ranters Now. I remain deeply grateful that James posted his comment and then allowed me to feature it. These are not easy issues, certainly not, and its easy to misread what we all are saying. I hope that what I’m contributing is seen through the lens of love and charity, in whose spirit I’ve been trying to respond. I’m not trying to write a position paper, but to share honestly what I’ve seen and the openings I feel I have been given–I reserve the right to change my opinions! From what I’ve read, I’d be honored to be in fellowship with James.

Liz Oppenheimer has opened up with a thoughtful, tender piece called My Friendly journey with Christ.

You know the disclaimer at the bottom that says I’m not speaking for any Quaker organization? I mean it. I’m just take phone orders and crank out web pages for a particular organization. This isn’t them speaking.

We talked about a lot of stuff over lunch, some of it just movement gossip. But we also talked about spirituality. He has left the Society of Friends and has become re-involved in his parents’ religious traditions. It didn’t sound like this decision had to do with any new religious revelation that involved a shift of theology. He simply became frustrated at the lack of Quaker seriousness.

It’s a different kind of frustration than the one I feel but I wonder if it’s not all connected. He was drawn to Friends because of their mysticism and their passion for nonviolent social change. It was this combination that has helped power his social action witness over the years. It would seem like his serious, faithful work would be just what Friends would like to see in their thirty-something members but alas, it’s not so. He didn’t feel supported in his Plowshares action by his Meeting.

He concluded that the Friends in his Meeting didn’t think the Peace Testimony could actually inspire us to be so bold. He said two of his Quaker heroes were John Woolman and Mary Dyer but realized that the passion of witness that drove them wasn’t appreciated by today’s peace and social concerns committees. The radical mysticism that is supposed to drive Friends’ practice and actions have been replaced by a blandness that felt threatened by someone who could choose to spend years in jail for his witness.

I can relate to his disappointment. I worry about what kinds of actions are being done in the name of the Peace Testimony, which has lost most of its historic meaning and power among contemporary Friends. It’s invoked most often now by secularized, safe committees that use a rationalist approach to their decision-making, meant to appeal to others (including non-Friends) based solely on the merits of the arguments. NPR activism, you might say. Religion isn’t brought up, except in the rather weak formulations that Friends are “a community of faith” or believe there is “that of God in everyone” (whatever these phrases mean). That we are led to act based on instructions from the Holy Spirit directly is too off the deep end for many Friends, yet the peace testimony is fundamentally a testimony to our faith in God’s power over humanity, our surrender to the will of Christ entering our hearts with instructions which demand our obedience.

But back to my friend, the ex-Friend. I feel like he’s just another eroded-away grain of sand in the delta of Quaker decline. He’s yet another Friend that Quakerism can’t afford to loose, but which Quakerism has lost. No one’s mourning the fact that he’s lost, no one has barely noticed. Knowing Friends, the few that have noticed have probably not spent any time reaching out to him to ask why or see if things could change and they probably defend their inaction with self-congratulatory pap about how Friends don’t proselytize and look how liberal we are that we say nothing when Friends leave.

God!, this is terrible. I know of DOZENS of friends in my generation who have drifted away from or decisively left the Society of Friends because it wasn’t fulfilling its promise or its hype. No one in leadership positions in Quakerism is talking about this lost generation. I know of very few thirty-something Friends who are involved nowadays and very very few of them are the kind of passionate, mystical, obedient-to-the-Spirit servants that Quakerism needs to bring some life back into it. A whole generation is lost–my fellow thirty-somethings–and now I see the passionate twenty-somethings I know starting to leave. Yet this exodus is one-by-one and goes largely unremarked and unnoticed (but then I’ve already posted about this: It will be in decline our entire lives).

Update 10/2005

I feel like I should add an addendum to all this. As I’ve spoken with more Friends of all generations, I’ve noticed that the attention to younger Friends is cyclical. There’s a thirty-year cycle of snubbing younger Friends (by which I mean Friends under 40). Back in the 1970s, all twenty-year-old with a pulse could get recognition and support from Quaker meetings; I know a lot of Friends of that generation who were given tremendous opportunities despite little experience. A decade later the doors had started to close but a hard-working faithful Friend in their early twenties could still be recognized. By the time my generation came along, you could be a whirlwind of great ideas and energy and still be shut out of all opportunities to serve the Religious Society of Friends.

The good news is that I think things are starting to change. There’s still a long way to go but a thaw is upon us. In some ways this is inevitable: much of the current leadership of Quaker institutions is retiring. Even more, I think they’re starting to realize it. There are problems, most notably tokenism—almost all of the younger Friends being lifted up now are the children of prominent “committee Friends.” The biggest problem is that a few dozen years of lax religious education and “roll your own Quakerism” means that many of the members of the younger generation can’t even be considered spiritual Quakers. Our meetinghouses are seen as a place to meet other cool, progressive young hipsters, while spirituality is sought from other sources. We’re going to be spending decades untangling all this and we’re not going to have the seasoned Friends of my generation to help bridge the gaps.

Related Reading

• After my friend Chris posted below I wrote a follow-up essay, Passing the Faith, Planet of the Quakers Style.
• Many older Friends hope that a resurgence of the peace movement might come along and bring younger Friends in. In Peace and Twenty-Somethings I look at the generational strains in the peace movement.
• Beckey Phipps conducted a series of interviews that touched on many of these issues and published it in FGConnections. FGC Religious Education: Lessons for the 21st Century asks many of the right questions. My favorite line: “It is the most amazing thing, all the kids that I know that have gone into [Quaker] leadership programs–they’ve disappeared.”