As humans, we tend to respect others in
proportion to the power they wield. The more powerful the person, the
greater the respect we will feel for them and show them.
We respect people who are powerful for
a variety of reasons. Most of them are selfish. Some are a result of
failing to see through the veil of mortality that blinds us to the
things that really matter.
Mostly, we respect the powerful for
selfish reasons. Those in power can use that power to either hurt or
help us. Whether they do the former or the latter is ultimately up to
their personal discretion. So by showing respect to the powerful, we
are hoping to increase the likelihood that they will use their power
and influence to our benefit and not the opposite.
This is really the core principle at
work in what people on the East Coast call “networking.” It's
really nothing more than showing deference and respect to those who,
by their positions of influence and power, may be able to help you in
the future. On the flip side, we hesitate to offend (and rush to
please) those whose wrath we want to avoid – a boss at work, for
instance; or a government official prior to an inspection or some
sort of regulatory approval.
Of course, this phenomenon works both
ways. Those who hold no power over us, or who possess no influence
that could possibly help or hurt us, we treat with disrespect.
But disrespect is harder to define than its opposite, for it takes on
many different forms and comes in many different colors. For
instance, outright contempt is certainly a form of disrespect, and
one might show haughty contempt for the beggar, or the illiterate
peasant woman. But more commonly – for less arrogant people, anyway
– disrespect is shown in different ways: as condescension;
indulgence of “silly behavior”; mere tolerance;
or a patronizing attitude.
I saw
a man – a well-dressed, young professional – walk into a
supermarket today and nearly run into a couple young women –
clearly students – on their way out. He pulled up just in time and
waited briefly for them to pass. His facial expression clearly read,
“Why are these silly girls in my way? They nearly ran right into
me.” He clearly felt they were a nuisance to be tolerated at best.
“Ah well,” he face seemed to say, as he continued on into the
store, “they're just women, after all. More important (read
“powerful”) people like myself will just have to be patient with
them.”
I
contrasted that reaction to what it would have been if he had nearly
bumped into a Senator or the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. He would
certainly have excused himself, apologizing for nearly causing an
accident, and showed great deference.
But there is at least one other factor
at play here as well. The tendency to respect the powerful is due to
more than human selfishness. It stems also from an inability to see
through the veil of mortality and perceive the things that matter
most. Most of us have our priorities all out of order and assign
value to all the wrong things. Greatness, for instance, we define in
terms of power and influence. As a result, we tend to respect and
admire the powerful, while we disdain and condescend to the weak.
Yet Jesus clearly taught that the
greatest is the least – the
most humble, the most kind, the one who serves and gives. Our respect
for others ought to stem, first and foremost, from a recognition of
their divinity and infinite potential. Of this same Jesus, who turned
the world's understanding of greatness and worth on its head, Ralph
Waldo Emerson said, “Alone in history he estimated the greatness of
man. One man was true to what is in you and me.” As such, our
respect for our fellow human beings ought to be universal.
Beyond
that, we ought to respect others for their virtues: for moral
courage, integrity, compassion, kindness, patience, service,
sacrifice, and selflessness. Last of all should be their power and
influence – for who knows by what means they obtained it?
This
tendency to disdain the weak because we value power is at the core of
sexism. It is responsible for why, throughout history, and
even to the present day, women have never enjoyed the level of
respect they deserve from men. It is also part of why the feminist
movement has focused so relentlessly on helping women break into
positions of social, economic, and political power. It is also why I
remain critical of the feminist movement for exactly this emphasis:
making women more powerful won't change the underlying flaw – that
only the powerful are respected. It means that individual women will
have to choose to pursue power if they want respect. And society will
continue to punish those who have their priorities in the right place
– in effect, those whose love of goodness exceeds their love of
power (or their desire for respect by acquiring power).
Now, I realize I'm being idealistic
here. Changing one of the fundamental tendencies of humanity is no
mean feat. And I don't blame feminists for trying to gain respect
through the easiest channels (i.e. by “playing by the rules of the
game”). But still, women ought to be respected whether they wield
power or not. A woman without much political power or influence is
equally worthy of a man's respect (or that of her fellow women) as
any other.
This matters. Because a world where
corruption is reigned in, where abuse of power is curtailed, and
where people are valued for the things that really matter – their
infinite, divine worth and the virtues they cultivate – is within
our grasp. But we have to learn to resist the natural human reaction
to respect power. And in its place, learn to respect goodness.
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