Authentic Dialogue Part 1: Remembering John Howard Griffin
by Elinor Dickson
Aware of the trajectory of my soul’s journey through dreams and deep bodily resonance, I often ask myself: Is there a new consciousness of interrelatedness and love manifesting in the world? On a collective, transpersonal level, has the water begun to flow? Has Yeats’ rough beast reached Bethlehem? While pondering these questions, a memory presented itself dating back to the early summer of l980.
I am sitting in a quiet, dimly lit corner of a large lounge on the farm north of Toronto with writer John Howard Griffin. Watching the sun slip beneath the horizon seemed more than a metaphor as he was very ill and, indeed, died two or three months later at the age of sixty.
Prior to World War II, John, a tall Texan, found himself at the University of Poitiers on a music scholarship. At nineteen he enrolled in the Ecole de Medicine, but his studies were interrupted by the War. As a medic in the French Resistance, John helped smuggle many Austrian Jews to safety. The last 39 months of the war he spent in the U.S. Army Air Corp and was decorated for bravery. Injuries sustained in the war left him blind for ten years and this time of looking inward resulted in his first two novels. Pained by the treatment of black Americans, John thought, as a writer, the best way to bring attention to this horrific injustice, would be to turn himself into a “black man” through dyes and medication. The experiences of violence and degradation he suffered daily in the Southern States during 1959-1960 led to his ground-breaking book, Black Like Me. John’s great empathy for humanity was balanced by a deep spiritual understanding, reflected in his close friendship with the iconic contemplative monk Thomas Merton, whose family asked him to write Merton’s biography. Dismayed by the atrocities of war and the violence around him, John went on to develop a leadership protocol based on “authentic dialogue.” He hoped this process would cut through the posturing and manipulation that so often passes for genuine discussion in the political arena.
The evening we spent together was part of a weeklong gathering to explore the possibility of founding a University of Peace. This was John’s dream, and he thought Canada would be the best place for this to happen. Participants included professors of varying disciplines, social activists, economists, and political and religious leaders from all persuasions. I remember Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau’s economic advisor being there, and with all the numbers in hand, he demonstrated how we could solve many of the world’s problems. For example, if every country cut 10% of its military spending, trillions could be freed up for new economic and social structures beneficial to everyone. Sadly, the political will is not there—not then, not today.
What captured my imagination at the time was John’s vision for bringing young, potential leaders together to engage in authentic dialogue. With hindsight, I realize that such an endeavor would involve psychology in the form of self-knowledge. Unconscious scripts play an enormous role in our interactions, and I could help in bringing that dimension of his vision to fruition. Such a university was not to be. With wonderful intentions and energy, the social activists turned to specific projects, yet I always felt that John had a broader vision in mind. I hosted one or two meetings at my office with some of the principal participants, but the energy flagged. Looking back, perhaps we did not quite grasp the vision, or we were lacking in commitment to make something more substantial happen. Maybe it was not the right time.
The reason my conversation with John came back to me was because he was truly standing at the edge of time. While I sensed no depression or even any personal concern in John, he was struggling with deep despair about the world and our future, which he poured into his vision of a University of Peace. Despair is not defeat. He asked me why I continued to have hope for the future of human beings or even the earth itself. I remember saying that I had little doubt that the earth would survive and heal, since it is nature, not humanity, who sets the bottom line. The future of humanity was more doubtful. In our very bare bones conversation that evening, I said that my hope for humanity lay in the fact that the night had not become dark enough to force us to change. The light shines in the darkness, but sometimes it must be very dark to see the light both in the night sky and within us.
John had, I believe, come face to face with the demon in the dark recesses of humanity’s psyche many times. He had been blinded in war, spat upon, and persecuted in the streets of the South, having to seek asylum from the Ku Klux Klan for himself and his family in Mexico. On a personal level, John had transformed the demon within because, like Nelson Mandela, he had come out of the dark with love in his heart. This is the journey we all need to make, the responsibility and commitment we need to assume. But there remain huge transpersonal energies to be faced that are particularly dangerous because we do not recognize their presence.
Twelve years ago, I awoke with a dream about Christine Amanpour, a very insightful international correspondent, and decided to do an “experiment” on the bodily impact of reading the Saturday newspaper. Horrible as it was to read about innocent people sacrificed to the age-old tribal gods of war and the naked grasping for power, or the systematic rape of women fleeing with their children from starvation in Somalia, that day it was articles on climate change, the world food supply, and the large-scale displacement of populations reminiscent of the 14th century, that caught my attention. The International Energy Association announced that global greenhouse gas emissions hit a record high that year and threaten to precipitate a further catastrophic rise in temperature. Since that day, we have witnessed extreme flooding, wildfires, drought, and hurricane force winds, often in places where this has rarely occurred before. Another degree rise in temperature and the accelerated melting of the polar ice caps could lead to a twenty-foot rise in the sea level which would be disastrous. Not surprising, the 2010 newspaper contained another article, a report by Oxfam, predicting the food and water shortages that are overtaking us now. In desperation, the environmental scientists had come to the point of urging civil disobedience to shake up governments and industry. This urging may soon be redundant as food and water shortages will spontaneously spark anarchy. With our technological skill, when it comes to finding clean drinking water in forty years, will there be an App for that?
Today, in 2023, I watch the sun retreat and wonder if the world has become dark enough yet? Unless we face the demons that devour us from within, we will, individually or collectively, continue to see the world and each other through the chinks of fear or greed as people grasp for power. We will continue to move along a trajectory toward self-destruction. The poet T.S. Eliot once wrote that “humankind cannot bear very much reality,” and it seems that for many people today, reality has become too much. Those who cannot face reality are easily seduced by the Father of Lies and his minions who feed their fear and grievance with conspiracy theories and illusions. Currently, we watch as any hope of authentic dialogue devolves into a political culture based on lies, hate, and violence to solve differences. Even language is being perverted in the cause of personal gain and vengeance over perceived enemies. Seven years ago, “woke” meant to be awakened, to see the light, intellectually and spiritually. Today, it is used to ban books, prevent action to minimize climate change, pervert common sense health measures and demonize people and culture in general. In totalitarian regimes from Russia to Myanmar, any semblance of truth or authentic dialogue has been shattered. Who will sit on top of the power pyramid is irrelevant. Being a puppet ruler in a divided, poisoned wasteland makes no sense.
Only when we truly learn to love ourselves, to heal the wounds within, will the water begin to flow with the discernment and compassion necessary to bring the world around us into a creative unity. My hope is in the many people across the globe (including politicians who do have a vision) who see that we live in an integral relationship with all of nature, who want to bring a greater unity into the world, but for whom lies and manipulation remain a formidable foe. Since “being awakened” has been bastardized, perhaps, “authentic dialogue” presents itself as a rallying point for those who have the courage and foresight to engage the “other.”