And Our Posterity

In the past, American school children were taught certain historic speeches by heart that served as a common fund of knowledge and tradition instantly recognizable across the nation and the generations: "Four-score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal." Recognize it? It's the opening line of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address--a mere 278 words in total. (Who said you have to be wordy to be effective?)

Here's another one : "We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America." Easy, right? The Preamble to the U.S. Constitution, written in 1787.

Notice for whom the drafters understood themselves to be acting: for "ourselves and our Posterity." You can't accuse the Founders of being a "me" generation! They expressly considered the effects--the costs and benefits--their action (or inaction) would have, not only on themselves, but also on later generations.

Similarly, some of the native Americans who inhabited this continent long before the British arrived followed the rule of "seven generations": No action may be adopted in the present unless it will be right and good for at least the next seven generations. (In typical capitalistic fashion, this foresighted rule of communal responsibility has been coopted by a commercial brand selling "eco-friendly" products. But that's another story . . . )

I thought of the phrase "for us and our posterity" recently while visiting a public botanical garden created over a century ago (probably with oil baron money) and dedicated to the preservation and cultivation of natural beauty in the midst of an otherwise crowded cityscape. I thought of it because the generation of Americans who founded this garden, whatever other faults it may have had, was not entirely a "me" generation either. This generation, though amassing enormous profits for the few while trampling on the welfare of the many, was also capable of great generosity (some of it, no doubt, guilt-induced).

This was the age that founded great research universities and liberal arts colleges, endowed generous humanitarian and cultural foundations, set aside thousands of acres of unspoiled public lands for preservation, and established excellent public museums, libraries, and art galleries, often with private money. These civic and cultural impulses were clearly forward-looking; they were oriented not only to "us" but also to "our posterity."

In her book Living with Contradiction, Esther de Waal quotes from Sister Maria Boulding, who reminds us: “The earth is not so much inherited from our parents as borrowed from our children. We owe a debt to the next generation” (75).

These older generations--our American ancestors--seemed to understand, to some extent, that they were not owners but stewards. They realized that they bore a responsibility to us to hand on--at least intact, if not improved--what they in their turn had received. Of course, in a larger perspective, we are stewards not just for future generations but, ultimately, for God. We are answerable to God for our care (or negligence) toward what we inherit.

I so thoroughly enjoyed my time at the botanical garden that I found myself very grateful for those who cared enough about me--about us, their posterity--to make the effort of establishing this place that would bring so much joy to so many people for so long into the future. I was grateful too for all who over the years have continued to support it with volunteered time and talent, as well as treasure. It made me wonder what we are leaving for our posterity.

Are we consciously considering the costs and effects of our actions on future generations? Are we even aware of what our legacy will be for those who follow after us? Maybe at an individual level people do pause to consider, to some extent, how their own actions will affect their children and grandchildren. Maybe they try to choose wisely, so that their children will enjoy a life at least as blessed as their own. Maybe.

But as a nation, as a collective community, how are we doing? Can we really say we are living up to the example set for us by the Founders? Let's look at the legacy our posterity can expect to receive from the current American government:

• a deficit so large that it will be buried with debt (owned largely by foreigners, especially China), when only eight short years ago there was a budget surplus;


• a social "security" system designed for an age when there were multiple workers for every retiree, not multiple retirees for every worker, and when retirees lived many years less than they do now;


• a country that, alone among "industrialized" nations, still does not provide health care for all its citizens;


• a country where the American dream has become an American nightmare for those on the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, as the gap between rich and poor widens rather than narrowing and equal educational opportunities disappear;


• a government where political influence as a commodity for sale to the highest bidder is "business as usual";


• a legacy of international resentment and backlash at the government's imperial hubris and unilateral rejection of well-established international political norms (e.g., blatant violation of the Warsaw Conventions on torture, "preemptive" war, "extraordinary rendition," etc.);


• a massive wealth-shifting program that has "privatized" warfare to operate under the profit-motive, but without capitalism's competitive restraints (e.g., Haliburton, Blackwater, KBR, etc.);


• broken families and psychologically stressed servicemen and women who have borne almost the whole brunt of the personal cost of the government's "war on terror";


• serious erosion of basic constitutional rights and infusion of the "justice" system with partisan political motivations and goals; and


• exacerbation of terrorism and inflammation of precisely those anti-American fundamentalists who inspired the amorphous war on "terror."

Of course there are many other legacies that could be mentioned--some good and some bad. The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, for example, has the potential to make some serious inroads against disease in developing countries. This is good news for posterity. Joan Kroc, widow of McDonald's founder Ray Kroc, left many millions to charitable causes on her death several years ago.

Maybe if such efforts received greater publicity it would be easier to be more optimistic about the current generation's effects on posterity. But as I look around me, I see little evidence of concern for "our posterity." Even the recent push to fight global warming seems fueled more by self-interest than concern for future generations.

Maybe it's time to take a look at another one of those historic documents that we used to memorize. It goes like this: "We hold these truths to be self-evident:

• that all men are created equal;


• that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights;


• that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness;


• that to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed;


• that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness."

Sound familiar? (It's from the American Declaration of Independence.) Not if you look around you today, I'm afraid. If governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed, why are we fighting a war to which the governed do not consent? If all men have certain unalienable rights, why are there people in Guantanamo Bay who have never been charged with any crime or given their day in court (much less people in secret "undisclosed" detention centers around the world)?

I have always considered myself a faithful American. But I agree with the slogan that "Dissent is patriotic"--or at least it can be, depending upon what one is dissenting against. Our own founders acted under this principle, enshrined in the founding document of our nation: "Whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness."

The People did alter the government's composition (not its form) in the last election, but it seems to have borne little fruit in altering the government's destructiveness to life, liberty, and happiness in this nation. Our lives are more than ever at risk from terrorism because of the blind bravado with which this administration plunged the nation into war in response to the genuine tragedy of 9/11. Our liberty has never been more threatened than now, as the executive branch's continuing grab for power threatens to unbalance our carefully constructed branches of government. Our happiness--collectively, as a people--has certainly never been more imperiled, as greater and greater portions of our collective wealth are apportioned to fewer, more affluent people.

No, I am not overlooking all the advances in medicine and technology that help make many lives in America more enjoyable, less pain-ridden, more productive, and longer. But these "advances" come at a high price: The happiness of the few for the suffering of the many. Earlier American generations had (sometimes greatly) unequal wealth, but the long-term trend was closing that gap until recently; now it has reversed itself.

Moreover, earlier American generations of the wealthy--like the generation, say, that founded the botanical garden--understood themselves as under an obligation to use their private wealth for the common good; this was, in large part, the impetus for the civic and cultural institutions they founded.

What's different now is that many in this new generation of wealthy Americans seem more than willing to use their private wealth for strictly private pleasures. They have little or no sense of public responsibility to use their unequal wealth to contribute to the common good. They are unfamiliar with the biblical teaching that "to whom much is given, much is required" (Luke 12.48). Perhaps this strictly private focus simply highlights a larger erosion of communal connection or fellow-feeling within the nation as a whole.

I remember speaking at length with a woman who volunteered in various ways during World War II to help support the troops. The thing that really stuck with her about her experience of wartime (she was in her late teens) was how the country came together. The whole country was engaged in various practical tasks directly aimed at supporting the troops. And the two sides in the war seemed very clear; an unambiguous choice between good and evil. It seemed that, the more the country fought, the more it came together.

I have met other people from this generation who had similar feelings of nostalgia for WWII. This really puzzled me, because I can't imagine a war being good for the country. Then 9/11 happened. I discovered the potential for tragedy to bring out the best in people. I felt for the first time what it might be like to have a real sense of "us" as Americans--what it might be like to see ourselves as "all in it together."

Interestingly, this communal feeling was not confined just to residents of the United States. People all over the world identified with our loss simply because they, like we, are human beings and they, like we, feel the tragedy inherent in the loss of innocent life. As someone said, "We're all Americans now." Of course, this solidarity was gone--both internationally and domestically--almost before we could even register it.

Very soon, we were back to our old divisions and differences. Americans no longer seem to think of ourselves as a united "us." Is there still one identifiable group called "the American people"? Or are we divided against each other in a 21st-century civil war of "red" states and "blue" states? Or as various ethnic, racial, or gender constituencies fighting one another in a zero-sum game for scraps from the public pork barrel? If we no longer hold anything in "common," it shouldn't surprise us that no one is stepping up right now to do anything for "the common good."

Does our government act like "all men are created equal"--or like all dollars are created equal? Do we Americans act as if we believe that "all men are created equal"--not all Americans, all 40-year-olds, or all working people; not all people in developing countries, all civilians, or all citizens. Just all people.

The Founders spoke of America as an "experiment." It was (contrary to the expectations of Qoheleth), something genuinely "new under the sun." The experiment is still underway; we don't yet know how it will turn out. Of course, in the long run, the odds are against us--all empires sooner or later fail. Yet, the United States may still have a good, long run ahead of it--depending upon our actions today.

If the Founders were conscious of the responsibility they owed to posterity, it is also true that we who benefit from their sacrifices owe a responsibility to them to give our best efforts to see that the experiment does not fail. That is what Lincoln was getting at as he ended his Gettysburg Address, dedicating a civil war battlefield and in turn calling the nation to "be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us . . . that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."