A book by Eric Greitens, who advertises himself as a SEAL. His interview on the Diane Rehm Show earlier this year. Charlie Rose and The Colbert Report. ABC.net.au and NPR.
Gary Snyder Show (mp3)
Does he justify American imperial forays in the name of humanitarianism? Does he represent Kaplan's "soldier-diplomat"? He wrote an essay for the Fall 2009 Phi Beta Kappa newsletter, The Key Reporter, in which he praises service-learning as a means of developing phronesis. I think he is wrong, because phronesis cannot be developed unless it is first within one's own community and in accordance with the order of charity. The dogmatic liberal do-gooder who loves all equally does not have phronesis, even if he may have misguided benevolence. A liberal arts education presupposes the proper moral development in a community, it does not lead to it. We can even see the proper moral development in the example of the Rwandans themselves, who act virtuously (or not) in their own communities and towards their own neighbors. They do not seek to improve themselves by going somewhere else and meddling in the affairs of others, the secular version of the Christian missionary who has left home in order to serve God first of all.
(Phi Beta Kappa is so Uhmerican in many ways. This is an organization which believes Martha Nussbaum is worthy of being honored, after all. Let the ivory tower fall down.)
Essay after the jump.
The Importance of Practical Wisdom
Service-Learning and Liberal Arts Education
by Eric Greitens
It is through service to others that we often learn how ideas can shape the world, yet we hardly think about service or service-learning as a formal part of the liberal arts education. A good liberal arts education helps us to understand how the best thinkers have come to see the world. We learn facts and theories that help us think deeply about what Aristotle called phronesis, the "practical wisdom" of living virtuously and promoting human flourishing. But just as a leader cannot learn to inspire and a nurse cannot learn to comfort by reading a book, the wisdom of living well can't be grasped solely by classroom learning. By pairing service with the lessons of the classroom, however, we can create phronesis.
In April of 1994, I turned on the evening news and saw corpses floating in rivers, and churches full of human bodies. It was the beginning of the Rwandan genocide. By the end of those 100 days, 800,000 men, women, and children would be dead. I was a sophomore at Duke University at the time. I was just beginning my studies in ethics, public policy and philosophy. Professor Neil Boothby invited me to fly with him to the refugee camps in Rwanda. He was heading up a UN project to study unaccompanied children--children who had lost parents during the genocide.
In my studies, I read how the Belgian colonial authority had instilled twisted notions of racial purity. I learned how the UN could not marshal the power to act. I learned how the US refused to offer military or financial resources to stop the genocide. But when I arrived in Rwanda and spoke to the survivors of the genocide, no one spoke to me about the UN, or the US, or the history of colonization. Instead, they told me stories about their neighbors. They were neighbors who said they couldn't help for fear that they would endanger their own families. In the worst cases, there were neighbors who became murderers themselves, torturing and killing people with whom they'd lived -- side-by-side -- for years. And then there were neighbors who risked their lives and the lives of their families for months on end to hide other neighbors behind false walls, all the time praying that not a single sound escaped at the wrong moment.
In the refugee camps, I met a 16-year-old who was the leader of a group of boys. I asked him to tell me about the other boys in his group. He pointed, and an aid worker translated. "This one," he said, "is very powerful with making fire and cooking. This one is very powerful with the soldiers from Zaire; they like him. This one is very powerful with singing." And as he went around the group, he described each boy as powerful in some way. They had survived, perhaps, because their leader had the humility to see the strength in everyone.
I also saw incredible acts of compassion in the refugee camps. I remember a Rwandan man, a refugee who was living in Goma, Zaire. I can't remember if I ever knew his name, nor can I remember if I ever knew his story. He came every day to the center for unaccompanied children, and he served as a kind of "games leader." When he walked into the aid tent, dozens of children would stand and run towards him. They played games--running, tagging, jumping, singing. He had no toys, no supplies. He simply borught himself and happiness. One of the most compelling facts about the refugee camps was that a tremendous number of people were actively involved in helping others. By caring for others, people develop their own strength. This pattern of recognizing strength and serving others was repeated everywhere I travelled.
These simple actions alone are not enough to fight an army, to protect a home, to prevent a crime, to heal a wound. But they are enough to rekindle the embers of hope. And in serving others, we find that we have a power to create hope and shape the lives of those served.
Many centuries ago, Pericles declared in his funeral oration to the citizens of Athens: "What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." It has been almost 15 years since I left Duke, but much of what I learned there endures. I am grateful for the knowledge my professors have passed onto me through my liberal arts education. I am also grateful for the opportunities to use that knowledge to serve and watch other people serve. With the practical wisdom that comes through serving, we learn that we all have the power to create hope.
Eric Greitens (PBK, Duke University, 1995) is a Rhodes Scholar, U.S. Navy SEAL reservist and Chariman of the Mission Cointunes. Strength & Compassion (Leading Authorities Press, 2008) is his book of photographs and essays from hsi time as a humanitarian volunteer. For more, visit www.ericgreitens.com.
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