Our Celebrity Problem

What is the difference between fame and celebrity? According to Katelyn Beaty, someone is famous for doing something, for a life well lived. A celebrity is known for their well-knownness, for a brand well cultivated (8, 13). In her book, Celebrities for Jesus: How Personas, Platforms, and Profits are Hurting the Church, she observes that celebrity is a uniquely modern phenomenon fostered first through newspapers, later film and television, and now the internet and social media. Mass media gives the illusion of intimacy with celebrities, but it is an illusion (12). Celebrities have social power without proximity (17). She argues that the tools of mass media are not neutral, or as I say, are not passive. “The primary functions of mass media are to entertain us and to get us to buy things. Thus, modern celebrities—including those in the church—feed the cycles of entertainment and material consumption” (12). The tools used influence the message transmitted by them, bringing that message into the realm of entertainment and consumption.

 The book gives significant attention to how Christian celebrities gain their status, how their celebrity hurts them and others, and how it makes it easier for them to abuse power. Similar to the excellent podcast series about Mark Driscoll, The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill, Beaty does not just focus on the celebrities themselves as the problem, but also on how other Christians enable and foster celebrities. As she states, the problem is not just with them, but with us (60). “The American church has overall mimicked celebrity culture rather than challenge it. We have too many institutions built around personalities” (19).

 She likens the allure of celebrity to the allure of the ring in Lord of the Rings. It is not a spiritually neutral tool. She observes that Jesus refused to do good things in the wrong way. Beaty advocates for a return to the small, the quiet, the uncool, the ordinary. “We must practice proximity—Valuing flesh-and-blood relationships over mediated ones, choosing intimacy over fandom, and letting others into the real contours of our behind-the-scenes lives, where our vulnerabilities and weaknesses are on display” (168-69). I appreciate that Beaty acknowledges her complicity in celebrity culture—both in contributing to the celebrity status of others and her own limited celebrity. Although not a major celebrity, she probably has more celebrity status than anyone reading this blog. Yet, let’s not let ourselves off the hook too quickly. As she states, “If people follow you on social media, you’re at least swimming in celebrity waters” (172). I will share some reflections the book provoked in me, and urge you to consider as well, what action steps it calls for.

 Beaty observed that people near a celebrity get refracted light and feel a bit of celebrity themselves. This can contribute to them putting inordinate and inappropriate effort into keeping the celebrity on their pedestal and continuing to support the celebrity even when there is strong evidence the person has major failings. I have not been in a celebrity's inner circle, so I do not think I have done the above. But, I recognize I am attracted to the refracted light of the famous and celebrities. As an enneagram 3, it is a way I can fill my longing for success. I have become more honest with myself about this in recent years. When I feel the pull, and recognize I am seeking to get close to someone primarily because they are a someone, I now stop. I remind myself that I am loved and embraced by God. From that place of acceptance, I find it easier to not chase the refracted light.

 Beaty is now the lead acquisitions editor for Brazos Press. To her credit, she includes a chapter in the book about how the Christian publishing industry has contributed to the problematic rise of celebrities. It “has added jet fuel to the problem of Christian celebrity” (96). Increasingly, publishers base decisions on what to publish on the platform of the author (number of followers, number in their congregation, etc.) rather than the quality of the book manuscript. She said this is especially true of Christian publishers that have been bought by multinational corporations. The platform pressure is present with other publishers as well. For instance, IVP Academic accepted my centered-set book for publication even though I do not have much of a platform. (About 400 people have subscribed to this blog.) IVP is not as beholden to platform pressure as some for-profit publishers. Yet much of the marketing guidance they give to all InterVarsity Press authors revolves around building a platform. It is seen as a key way of selling books today.

 As I sat staring at IVP’s suggestions of ways for an author to build a following, my recurring thought was: this is not about me. I do not want to promote Mark Baker; I want to promote the centered approach. Of course, the two overlap. I am the one doing the podcast interview on the book tomorrow. But I made an intentional decision to make a new website focused just on centered-set church rather than a new page on a Mark Baker website. I made an intentional decision to not work at building my platform and following but to keep the focus on the centered approach. So, for instance, rather than inviting people to sign up for updates on Mark Baker, I invited people to sign up only for notification of when the centered-set videos and my book on Galatians and the centered approach would be released.

 I feel a bit uncomfortable with the previous paragraph. It sounds too much like I hold myself up as the stellar example of turning away from celebrity, and, implicitly, point my finger in judgment at those who do work at building their platform. So, a couple of caveats. First, there is a Mark Baker website. It is about as flashy as you would expect from someone who just stopped using an overhead projector a few years ago, but it is there. Second, if I was 40 and had several other books in mind, rather than 65, I probably would be giving more thought than I am to gathering readers for future books not just the present ones. I can easily imagine I would follow the platform-building advice. I share my experience not as a categorical statement against seeking followers to promote one’s work, but as an example of the possibility of at times resisting the current of the day. At times it is better to not adopt the default approach, and it is possible to do so.

 I had made that decision before reading Beaty’s book. She led me to press deeper. She called for a greater focus on relationships, not just as a way of protecting from the negatives of celebrity lack of proximity, but also because it is the way of Jesus. She reflected on how relationships with ordinary, non-celebrity, Christians have kept her in the faith. In the world of celebrity, and in my Eneagram-3 mind, writing a book is of more significance than a discipling relationship with a few individuals. Jesus opted for the latter. I felt chastened and challenged. It is not that I repent of having dedicated so much time and energy to writing books, nor that I am putting aside the book project I am currently working on. Books have value. Although some Enneagram-3- grasping-for-status certainly fueled my desire to write my first book, principally I wanted to write a book because God had used books in such transformative ways in my life. I desired to make that sort of contribution to others. But I do feel challenged in two ways. First, to reorient and give relations with others and discipleship the prized position they merit. Second, her book spurred me to think about how to treat the books I am currently promoting, Centered-Set Church and Freedom from Religiosity and Judgmentalism, in more relational ways. For instance, in the evaluation of the book's success, let comments from individuals carry more weight than sales numbers. (Perhaps, for instance, to not immediately go to numbers when I answer the question: "How is your book doing?" And perhaps more importantly, internally do not immediately go to sales numbers. Pray for me--easier for me easier said than done.) I also want to prioritize relational approaches in my use and promotion of the books.

 What might Beaty's insights and observations mean for you?

Restoring Personhood – In the Early Church and Today

Gaius, mentioned in Paul’s letter to the Romans (16:23), was head of a household—meaning he likely had a large house that included his family and other workers and slaves. Andy Crouch observes that Gaius would have been a client to patrons above him as well as a patron to others with less status and power. Then Crouch makes this statement: "There is one other significant thing about Gaius that we need to grasp . . . He was a person" (15). Well, isn't that obvious? Do we need someone as brilliant as Andy Crouch to tell us that? What makes the statement significant is what Crouch explains next. In the Roman world at that time personhood was a legal category—someone with standing before the law. “Many people in Gaius’s world were, in fact not persons in this sense. Slaves, above all, though they were undeniably human, were treated under the law not as person but as property” (15). That helps us understand why Crouch told us he was a person, but why is Crouch writing about Gaius in a book on technology? (The Life We’re Looking For: Reclaiming Relationship in a Technological World.)

 Just as in Gaius’s day world forces hindered many humans from living as persons, Crouch argues that today technology and Mammon hinder humans from living as persons. Our machines and devices make us machine-like.

 Erastus, the next one mentioned in Romans, was a city official and also a person. The man mentioned before Gaius, Tertius, and the one after Erastus, Quartus, were not persons in Roman society. As Crouch observes, we know Tertius was a nobody partly because of his job—to take down dictation from important people like Gaius and Erastus. He may have been a slave, but even if a hired hand, he was still not considered a person. His name, "third," also points to his lack of status. Sons of slaves did not matter much, so they were often named by the month they were born or their birth order. Even non-slave families sometimes did this—only the first-born son really mattered. Out on the street, Gaius and Erastus are men of rank—persons, and Tertius and Quartus (Fourth) are nobodies—non-persons. But when they all gathered together as Jesus followers, the categories and stratification were left at the door. Slaves and free, scribes and city officials, men and women, all ate together at the same table. They all became persons.

 Crouch leads us to see this in the letter itself. He imagines Paul stopping dictation of his greetings and saying, “’Tertius, you should greet them.’ . . Suddenly the scribe is not just writing; he is speaking—and he has a name. . . Paul sees Tertius. He is Paul's brother, not just a hired hand" (115-16). Borrowing from Madeline L'Engle, we would say, Paul named him. “[T]he circle of brothers and sisters [expands] to include those who do the anonymous work, those who normally take orders, those who arrive without being greeted and depart without being noticed. Those who were named something like ‘number three’. . . But as they arrive and join the feast, every one of them is welcomed in the Lord. . . Because every one of them is a person” (116, 120).

The need for humans to be treated as persons, not things, is just as great or even greater today. There are still categories of people who, in the eyes of some, are less-than-human. Others perform machine-like labor and are often treated like machines. Yet now, even the personhood of those with status, today’s Gaius and Erastus, is lessened by technology and Mammon.

 Let us, the body of Christ, as individuals and communities, be instruments of naming—of restoring personhood to those who have lost or are losing it. Here are some ideas on how to do that.

          Table Fellowship – As in Gaius's time, inviting someone to share a meal communicates acceptance, restores dignity, and fosters human connection.

         Technology Fasts – In an earlier book, The Tech-Wise Family: Everyday Steps for Putting Technology in Its Proper Place, Andy Crouch shares some of his family’s practices, including fasting from their devices, one hour a day, one day a week, one week a year. Share the ideas, read the book with others—practice it together.

        Alternative Activities  – Don’t just take breaks from technology, but with intentionality do things that foster personhood—with friends, family, church community.

          Be Present  – Another area that calls for intentionality. In an age of absence be present to others.

          Give Dignity – Look for ways to increase the dignity of those with a dignity deficit.

         Evangelism – How might technology and Mammon's attack on personhood reframe how you think about and practice inviting others into a relationship with Jesus?

For Further reading –  In addition to the two books by Andy Crouch mentioned above, I recommend the following historical fiction books:

A Week in the Life of Rome  by James L. Papandrea

Lost Letters of Pergamum by Bruce Longenecker

 These narratives will help you feel and understand in greater depth the personhood-denying practices of Roman society and the radicalness of Christians' response.

Automating Humans: The Costs of Amazon’s Extreme Efficiency

In my class on technique I always say: “How many of you have worked in a fast food restaurant? If you have, then, like me, you experienced the controlling influence of technique. The quantitative evaluation of actions in terms of time and money was evident in most all we did from how we put ketchup on hamburgers, how much ice to put in drinks to how we mopped the floors.” True, my 1970’s fast-food place emphasized efficiency, but how does it compare to today? Did you know that every task at McDonald’s has a target time in seconds? But, it is not just the list of times that makes the current McDonald’s more efficiency driven, it is that today they have monitoring equipment that can track those tasks—in real time. If a 2019 McDonald’s employee stepped into my 70’s chicken restaurant they would probably find it, in comparison, a relaxing work environment. And it would not just be the lack of timers, clocks, and alarms, but also the scheduling. Today’s algorithmic scheduling enables restaurants and stores to predict how much business to expect at different times in the week ahead. Thus individuals’ schedules vary from week to week, and efficiency demands, and algorithms now enable, that there are never extra workers. The computer schedules the minimum needed, or better yet, just less than minimum, for the amount of business expected.

If you have not recently worked at an efficiency driven job, I recommend talking to someone who has, or read Emily Guendelsberger’s On the Clock: What Low-Wage Work Did to Me and How It Drives America Insane. Guendelsberger did investigative journalism through getting jobs, for two months each, at an Amazon warehouse, a call center, and a McDonald’s. It is one thing for me to say in class, “Machines are pure technique, but much of life is becoming machine-like.” It was another thing to see and feel the implications of that page after page in On the Clock. “All Amazon’s metrics and ticking clocks and automatic penalties are meant to constrain the inefficiencies of human workers so they act more like robots” (87).

In an essay in TIME Guendelsberger writes, 

Technology has enabled employers to enforce a work pace with no room for inefficiency, squeezing every ounce of downtime out of workers’ days. The scan gun I used to do my job was also my own personal digital manager. Every single thing I did was monitored and timed. After I completed a task, the scan gun not only immediately gave me a new one but also started counting down the seconds I had left to do it.

It also alerted a manager if I had too many minutes of “Time Off Task.” At my warehouse, you were expected to be off task for only 18 minutes per shift–mine was 6:30 a.m. to 6 p.m.–which included using the bathroom, getting a drink of water or just walking slower than the algorithm dictated, though we did have a 30-minute unpaid lunch. It created a constant buzz of low-grade panic, and the isolation and monotony of the work left me feeling as if I were losing my mind. Imagine experiencing that month after month.

Workplace chatter undermines efficiency. Guendelsberger suspects that the system that told her what item to pick up next purposefully sent her where she would not run into someone else between the shelves. Certainly it makes for less congestion, but also less talking. The packing stations are “catty-corner from one another, making it impossible to talk” (52). She felt deeply lonely working at Amazon. What is gained and lost through making the workers more machine-like? Ponder these quotes from workers at Amazon warehouses:

“The first time I worked there was so soul-sucking I found myself nearly crying in my car right before I was supposed to walk in.”

“The pay and the benefits are usually good, but it’s just not worth it if you don’t like being a complete robot.”

“There is no room for getting tired.”

“The temp agencies that Amazon uses are atrocious. They absolutely treat you like human waste.”

“People say, ‘Well, I’ve worked for such-and-such warehouse, surely it’s not that different—’ No, it is different. It’s downright dehumanizing” (22).

On one hand I write this blog about Amazon as an instructive case study. It displays what happens when we seek efficiency above all else. Its fruit is alienation. Therefore, as I say in class (and in this sermon) let us recognize that “efficiency” and “best” are not synonymous.  Efficiency is just one of the characteristics we should use to evaluate what is the best thing to do.

But this is not a case study of just one business among many. As Guendelsberger observes in her TIME essay, “Amazon is the apex predator of the modern economy; as with Walmart in the ‘90’s, anyone who wants to compete with it will have to adopt its labor practices.” How do we as followers of Jesus respond?

Perhaps the obvious is to say, “don’t buy from Amazon.” At some level I agree with that. I now generally buy used books from Better World Books, and at times willingly pay more for a new book to support a publisher or local bookstore. But I do not protest when Amazon sells my books, and even now part of me feels like sending a bunch of e-mails telling people, “for some reason that neither I nor IVP understands Amazon has been selling my honor-shame book at, or below cost, for about month. Take advantage of it!” So, I can hardly lead the way in a boycott-Amazon-movement.

Perhaps rather than thinking about how we might influence Amazon, we need to pay more attention to how Amazon, and other efficiency-driven enterprises, are influencing us. Former student Rob Maxey made that observation and said, “we now expect to get things the next day.” So rather than pointing a self-righteous finger at Amazon (I am ok they are not), this case study calls me to reflect on how I have drunk too much from the “efficiency-is-best” well and have become Amazon-like myself. 

Yes, this is a case study to stimulate reflection on that question, but, again, I must say this is more than a case study to stimulate reflection. As I write this, not too far down the road, workers are experiencing the dehumanizing efficiency of an Amazon warehouse. How about them? What is our response? What can we do to lessen the profound alienation they experience?

I ask this out of concern for those workers, but also concern for all of us. Inequality in the United States is increasing and as I explain in this blog, it negatively affects all of us. Although we measure inequality in financial terms, as I explain in that earlier blog, social scientists point to damaged dignity being at the root of the negatives that flow from inequality. We suffer from not just economic inequality but also a huge gap between people treated with dignity and those stripped of dignity. Amazon is not, of course the sole cause of that gap. Many forces in society dehumanize, but pursuit of extreme efficiency is one of those forces.

Let us as Christian communities call business people amongst us to resist bowing down to efficiency and turning their workers into machine-like beings. Or, to say it positively, let us call Christian employers and managers to intentionally seek to add to their workers’ dignity and sense of humanness even when involved in processes that easily detract from both. If businesses do so will they be able to compete with efficiency-driven enterprises? I don’t know. I am seeking to learn more by asking business people.

I had a long conversation with former student Matt Ford about these issues. He is operations director at JD Foods—a family-owned food distribution company in Fresno. Our conversation merits a whole blog. I will share just one line. Matt told me he overheard a worker say to another, “I could go work at _______; I would make more money, but there I would just be a number.” Clearly, thanks to the efforts of Matt, Rob Maxey and others at JD that person is experiencing the opposite of soul-sucking dehumanization.

 Let’s be clear, many of us, myself included, are in no position to exhort Christians in managerial positions on how to counter the alienating ways of extreme efficiency. We can, however, do what I have done this fall. I talked with Rob and then Matt not to tell them how to run their business, but to have conversations with them about these issues, to ask questions, learn—and, especially, encourage them in every Jesus-like action I observe in them.

Still, however, there are the people down the road in the Amazon warehouse and, for instance, at the place Matt’s employee did not want to work. How are we being the body of Christ to them? What can we be doing to heal their alienation, to offset the soul-sucking extreme efficiency of their workplace? I invite your comments on these questions and thoughts on how we might change the situation, not just bandage the wounded.

Distraction: Insights from an Amish Man and a Professional Blogger

An Amish man sat down next to me in the train’s observation car. As the train climbed out of Denver we began pointing out amazing sights to each other. It was great to share the moments with someone as enthralled by the mountain vistas as I was. Part of me was just as excited about something else. An internal voice said, “Mark! You read and discuss an article about the Amish and technology every time you teach Discipleship and Ethics. Talk to him! See if the article is accurate.”

I asked questions, trying to get a feel for how direct I could be in our conversation. Harvey told me his parents were from Napanee, Indiana. He was born in Iowa where he still lives with his wife and seven children. He runs a business putting up metal pole buildings. We talked about language: was the low-German he spoke the same as the Pennsylvania Dutch my grandfather spoke? He was warm and friendly; I plunged in…

I asked him about his community’s approach to phones. He told me they did not have landline phones in their homes because they thought they would disrupt low-key family life. (They have a phone in a shed which they share with neighbors.) “How about cell phones?” He replied, “We think they would lead to a faster pace of life, which we do not want.” In addition, smart phones would open them up to inappropriate things, so not having phones acts as a helpful buffer.

Amish avoid some technology, but they are not technique adverse. As I say in class, they use a lot of technique to work around the technologies they opt not to use. So, I was curious what he would say about my thoughts on efficiency. I told him I am a seminary teacher and in my ethics class we talk about these themes. I explained my thinking about efficiency. To do something in the most efficient way means to do it in a way that uses the least amount of time, money, energy, space, etc.  Efficiency is not evil. Yet today the most efficient way is generally assumed to be the best way. It is this confusion—this equating “efficiency” with “best,” or “efficiency” with “effective”—that enables technique to act as an enslaving power.  In reality “efficient” is one of a variety of characteristics we could use to evaluate what method or approach is best or most effective. He agreed.

I told Harvey about the article on the Amish we read for class (“Look Who’s Talking,” by Howard Rheingold). The article states that a key question the Amish ask when reflecting on whether to adopt a new technology is: “Will it bring us together or draw us apart?” Harvey affirmed the authenticity of the question. I asked him about the discernment process. He replied, “I am not involved; that’s above me.” Not involved, but it impressed me that Harvey did know the “why” of decisions made. Apparently, those above did not simply hand down edicts, but explained their reasoning.

We continued talking about other things, including shared Anabaptist convictions and connections with Mennonite Central Committee. I am grateful for the opportunity to have spent time with Harvey. It made personal and concrete what I have read. I did not feel a pull to become Amish, but it reaffirmed my conviction that they have valuable things to teach us: a commitment to ask questions before adopting new technologies, the willingness to value something else above efficiency, and the practice of explaining the “why” of our decisions are worth emulating.

Part II 

“If the churches came to understand that the greatest threat to faith today is not hedonism but distraction, perhaps they might begin to appeal anew to a frazzled digital generation.” Andrew Sullivan

Not surprising that Harvey, an Amish man, would warn us of the downsides of smart phones. Increasingly, however, we hear some people deeply embedded in the tech world sounding warnings as well. A. J. Swoboda, Pentecostal pastor and professor, recently gave an impassioned lecture at the seminary on the value of times of turning off our phones: “Distracted: The Holy Spirit and Paying Attention.” He referred to an article by Andrew Sullivan, which I just read. (I recommend both the lecture and the article to you.)

In, “I Used to be a Human Being” Sullivan, an early blogger, tells what happened to him as his life became more and more absorbed by the Internet.

For a decade and a half, I’d been a web obsessive, publishing blog posts multiple times a day, seven days a week . . . Each morning began with a full immersion in the stream of internet consciousness and news, jumping from site to site, tweet to tweet, breaking news story to hottest take, scanning countless images and videos, catching up with multiple memes. . . Although I spent hours each day, alone and silent, attached to a laptop, it felt as if I were in a constant cacophonous crowd of words and images, sounds and ideas, emotions and tirades — a wind tunnel of deafening, deadening noise. So much of it was irresistible, as I fully understood. So much of the technology was irreversible, as I also knew. But I’d begun to fear that this new way of living was actually becoming a way of not-living. . . If you had to reinvent yourself as a writer in the internet age, I reassured myself, then I was ahead of the curve. The problem was that I hadn’t been able to reinvent myself as a human being.

He pulled the plug, stepped away from his lucrative blogging activity. Read the article to hear more of his story of how he sought healing and how he is trying now to live with internet moderation. He does much more, however, than just tell his story. I share with you just a few of his insights—flowing from research and reflecting on his experience.

Some point out that every new revolution in information technology has caused panicked shouts of apocalyptic doom. Sullivan observes, however, that the change this time is rapid and exponential. Think what has happened just in the last ten years.

“Not long ago, surfing the web, however addictive, was a stationary activity. At your desk at work, or at home on your laptop, you disappeared down a rabbit hole of links and resurfaced minutes (or hours) later to reencounter the world. But the smartphone then went and made the rabbit hole portable, inviting us to get lost in it anywhere, at any time, whatever else we might be doing. Information soon penetrated every waking moment of our lives.”

“We absorb this ‘content’ (as writing or video or photography is now called) no longer primarily by buying a magazine or paper, by bookmarking our favorite website, or by actively choosing to read or watch. We are instead guided to these info-nuggets by myriad little interruptions on social media, all cascading at us with individually tailored relevance and accuracy.”  

He digs deeper.

Automation and online living have sharply eroded the number of people physically making things . . .Yes, online and automated life is more efficient, it makes more economic sense, it ends monotony and “wasted” time in the achievement of practical goals. But it denies us the deep satisfaction and pride of workmanship that comes with accomplishing daily tasks well, a denial perhaps felt most acutely by those for whom such tasks are also a livelihood — and an identity. . . If we are to figure out why despair has spread so rapidly in so many left-behind communities, the atrophying of the practical vocations of the past — and the meaning they gave to people’s lives — seems as useful a place to explore as economic indices.

And shares some observations about church…

If the churches came to understand that the greatest threat to faith today is not hedonism but distraction, perhaps they might begin to appeal anew to a frazzled digital generation. Christian leaders seem to think that they need more distraction to counter the distraction. Their services have degenerated into emotional spasms, their spaces drowned with light and noise and locked shut throughout the day, when their darkness and silence might actually draw those whose minds and souls have grown web-weary. But the mysticism of Catholic meditation — of the Rosary, of Benediction, or simple contemplative prayer — is a tradition in search of rediscovery. The monasteries — opened up to more lay visitors — could try to answer to the same needs that the booming yoga movement has increasingly met.

But this new epidemic of distraction is our civilization’s specific weakness. And its threat is not so much to our minds, even as they shape-shift under the pressure. The threat is to our souls. At this rate, if the noise does not relent, we might even forget we have any.

What can you do today, this week to lessen distraction and open up spaces for silence, for listening to God? What can you do to help others in your family, in your church, those you teach or counsel lessen distraction and open up spaces for silence, for listening to God?

Greed + Efficiency = Poison: What to Do About Greed?

What is in the strawberry jam you bought at the grocery store? You might wonder if it is sweetened with sugar or high fructose corn syrup. Or perhaps you might look at the ingredients label to see if strawberries or sugar is the first ingredient. You would not, however, wonder: does it have strawberries in it?  You might be suspicious of whether something labeled strawberry flavored jello actually has strawberries in it, but if the label says “strawberry jam” you assume it is made from strawberries, not apples. Safe assumption today, but not in the 19th century, early 20th century United States. There were no regulations on labeling food, no requirement to list ingredients. Greed and ingenuity led people to figure out how to make something that was sweet, looked like strawberry jam, was labeled as strawberry jam, sold at the price of strawberry jam, but had no strawberries in it. Instead of expensive strawberries they mashed up apple peelings, added grass seeds and red dye and called it strawberry jam. Greed and ingenuity led others to combine sawdust, wheat, beans, beets, peas, and dandelion seeds, scorch the mixture black, grind it and sell it as coffee. Ground stone was added to flour, Milk was diluted with water and then those greedy actors would cover their deed by adding plaster of paris or chalk to the mix.

This sort of thing has probably gone on for centuries—whether through putting a finger on the scale or through deception, dishonest greedy food sellers have cheated their customers. At times the deception was dangerous—people got sick, some died—mostly they just got cheated. With greater technical capabilities, however, things changed. What happens when you combine not just greed and ingenuity, but add technique/efficiency?

Deborah Blum writes, “By the end of the nineteenth century, the sweeping industrial revolution—and the rise of industrial chemistry—had brought a host of new chemical additives and synthetic compounds into the food supply. Still unchecked by government regulation, basic safety testing, or even labeling requirements, food and drink manufacturers embraced the new materials with enthusiasm, mixing them into goods destined for the grocery store at sometimes lethal levels” (2). Chemists gave food producers new ways to deceive and profit. Formaldehyde offered new embalming practices to undertakers, not a problem, but in food?! Producers found it not only worked as a preservative—enabling unrefrigerated meat to last longer—it actually restored the appearance of decaying meat or spoiled milk. It and other chemical preservatives used at that time, such as salicylic acid, caused sickness and death.

Not just preservation, but substitution. Producers found it more efficient to substitute chemical ingredients in place of actual food—for instance, saccharine, discovered in 1879, was much cheaper than sugar. Many of these chemical additives ended up causing significant health problems. The need for regulation and labeling was obvious, legislation was regularly introduced with broad popular support, yet it failed. Food producers and new chemical companies, like Monsanto and Dow, successfully blocked it for decades.

Blum, in her book The Poison Squad: One Chemist’s Single-Minded Crusade for Food Safety at the Turn of the Twentieth Century, chronicles many examples of intentional corruption of food, the dogged efforts to expose the dangers through testing, the denial and obfuscation by the producers, and the eventual success in passing legislation and in forming the Food and Drug Administration. Certainly there is too much government regulation in places, but this book makes it clear that we cannot rely on people or corporations to self-police. Where greed is present there will be problems. (I am summarizing a whole book in a few paragraphs. I want to be careful to make clear it was not all the food producers. Some, Heinz for instance, did not deceive nor use dangerous additives. Those producers who did not deceive were leading proponents of laws about honest labeling.)

Although these are stories from the past, the combination of greed and technique continues to poison life today. Just yesterday I read an article in TIME magazine, on how in many countries generic drugs do more harm than good. How? Generics, made in places like India and China, are cheaper than the originals made in North America or Europe. They are supposed to be, and are sold as, the chemical equivalent. But in reality the generic manufacturers often put different amounts of the active ingredient in pills with the same label. If it is going to a country with vigilant regulators they include the full amount, to countries with the less regulation they put in less, and to countries with the least regulation or enforcement they include much less in each pill. Read the article to find out how that is dangerous not only for the patient, but for all of us.

The combination of greed and technique, and its destructive consequences are, of course, not limited to food and drugs. I could share many examples. Here is just one I heard a couple weeks ago. Michael Lewis, in his podcast, “Against the Rules,” tells stories of the importance of referees in our lives—both literal sports referees and people and agencies that play that role in other area of our lives.  In the middle of the second episode, dedicated to the lack of referees in the arena of consumer finance, he explains the seven minute rule practiced at Navient a student loan servicing company. Lewis recounts one school teacher’s repeated efforts, stretched over months, to get help from Navient on entering a public service loan forgiveness program. Why did she have so much trouble? A key factor is that Navient makes its money through servicing loans for the Department of Education. The less time they spend on each person, the more money they make. The goal was for employees to spend seven minutes or less with each caller. Their computer tracked their performance efficiency throughout the day with color coded bars displaying, in real time, how much over or under the seven minute average they were for the day. They got bonuses if they stayed under. So who were the most prized employees? The ones paying more attention to the clock than to what the caller actually needed. Navient did not care whether the school teacher got the help she needed to enter the loan forgiveness program—they would lose money if she did. She missed the deadline for the program because of the incomplete help she got from her many calls. Greed combined with efficiency is hurting people today as it was a century ago.

Deborah Blum and Michael Lewis share these stories to emphasize the importance of regulations and the enforcement of regulations. In essence they are saying, because of some people’s greed we need controls for our protection. We have all experienced the frustration of government regulations gone awry, but next time you read a label or look at the list of ingredients on a food product give thanks that we have those regulations.

Blum and Lewis make a good point about the need for regulations. I, however, was left wondering: How about the root problem, greed? What can the church do to lessen greed? In the middle of Blum’s book I found myself wondering how I could re-arrange my ethics course to spend an hour reviewing examples of the damaging consequences that flow from greed combined with technique and then talk about how the church could confront greed more directly.

I continue to think lessening greed is of great importance, but I am less sure that we need to talk more about greed. I do not think we need to more often say “don’t be greedy!” Would that do any good?

Jesus and the Bible do talk about greed, but not in a bounded-group, finger-pointing sort of way. Rather it is more of a warning—greed is not good for you or others. So yes, let’s talk more often about greed, but more in the sense of truth-telling, exposing—let people know it does not deliver. It is not the path to shalom. But more important than warning people to get off the greed path, let us ponder what we are doing to help them experience the alternative—the richness that flows from loving service to others and the security of rooting our status not in consumption fueled by greed but in our belovedness by God.

I am left thinking that rather than attacking greed it is much better to promote generosity. How can we increase our generosity and encourage others in generosity?

As people aware of the reality of sin and powers of evil let us affirm the need for appropriate and well managed regulations. As bearers of the gospel let us contribute to more shalom in the world through inviting others to join us in the way of Jesus and join us in practicing generosity.

Downsides of Efficiency: A Lesson from Vietnam

                             Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara

The war in Vietnam spanned my childhood. It ended April 30, 1975, less than two months before I graduated from high school. Thus, watching Ken Burns’s and Lynn Novick’s documentary series, The Vietnam War, differed from seeing documentaries on other wars. I have lived experience, memories, of what it covered. I remember not just events, but also my understandings, perceptions, and feelings. In some ways the series peeled back layers and revealed to me how reality was so different than what I perceived. Yet it also helped me understand why I had the thoughts and feelings I did at the time.

Numerous times I have told people the following: “On the evening news they had charts listing the killed and wounded on each side. Since there were not fronts in Vietnam, like the wars I read about in books, the body count was what I used to discern who was winning. We almost always won the numbers war on the evening news.” Looking back, I have thought of this as a child’s simplistic view of things. It was not. Body counts were the means of measuring progress in the war, not just for the little boy Mark Baker, but also for the Secretary of Defense.

Before becoming Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara had led Ford Motor Company. He brought a technician’s mindset to his role. At Ford he used numbers as the basis of evaluation. He sought to improve efficiency so that the numbers would improve. So too in Vietnam, in his mind an efficient war would be a successful one. He needed numbers. If he could not measure well, he would be unable to improve performance. Therefore, to do better in the war, the U.S. needed to do a better job of measuring. McNamara ordered subordinates to look for ways to quantify more and more things. An aide told him, “but you can’t count what really matters, how the Vietnamese people feel.” What were their concerns, loyalties, hopes, etc.? The focus on numbers actually contributed to the U. S. paying less attention to these important elements. One of the lines that most stood out to me in the documentary was a comment someone made on body counts. “When you can’t measure what is important you make important what you can count.”

This focus on numbers and the negative implications flowing from that continued long after McNamara left the Department of Defense. For the U. S., it was a war of numbers. Patrols were sent out not to take territory from the enemy, but to attract fire and engage in a firefight to kill the enemy. U. S. soldiers would fight to drive the enemy off a hill, leave, the enemy would come back, and they would do it again. It was not the hill that mattered, it was the body count. The focus on numbers trickled down to the soldiers; they felt it. So, from privates on up, the way to impress those above you was getting numbers. That encouraged erring on side of killing innocent people rather than the opposite. It fostered lying and fabricating numbers. One pilot told about how the person looking at the pictures of what they had bombed always came up with ways to find things to count and to make them sound impressive—any building or vehicle damaged was turned into a success against something of military significance.

Because the numbers were always dramatically better for the U. S., as a child I had thought, “the other side is going to run out of people. We will win.” And actually, my simple means of evaluating was not that different from strategists in the defense department. They calculated a kill ratio that if achieved and continued, would mean that N. Vietnam would not be able to keep up and replace those killed. (The Pentagon’s assumption was wrong. As they were wrong about so much.)

“When you can’t measure what is important you make important what you can count.”

I wonder where else we are pulled away from what is truly important because it can’t be quantified and measured? How does it happen in education, ministry, business, social work, etc.?

This is not to say that measuring is totally wrong. For instance, if the number of people viewing my blogs drop dramatically, reflecting on why might be beneficial. But if I became too focused on numbers I would be pulled away from what is important. For some on the internet, all that matters are numbers. They focus their energy on discerning the best click bait. All they care about is quantity.

It reminds me of what I say in class. “Machines are pure technique, but much of life is becoming machine-like. Values which humans are told to honor and to live by are the values of the machine: organization, standardization, precision, rationalization, systematization, efficiency, and artificiality.

And other values are to be despised, as destructive of efficiency: individuality, spontaneity, variety, diversity, the natural, freedom, and subjectivity.

So what is wrong with the rule of technique? It is not that organization, precision, and efficiency are always bad, and spontaneity and diversity are always good, but if through our unquestioning devotion to technique the first list crowds out the second list then something valuable is lost. It is hard for us to be fully named, to be in interdependent relationships.”

Similarly, it is not that quantifying and measuring are bad, but they become problematic when they distort our perception of what is most important. “When you can’t measure what is important you make important what you can count.”

As in so much else, here too let us center on Jesus. First, Jesus offers a model of focusing on the truly important. Second, the loving embrace of Jesus provides a place of security from the shaming voices that scold us for not quantifying more, for not prioritizing efficiency and the “success” it produces.

Marvelous Pigness of Pigs

When showing the documentary Fresh in class one of the lines that always catches students’ attention is Joel Salatin talking about the chickenness of the chickens. He describes how his way of farming, in contrast to industrial chicken farms, honors the chickenness of chickens. In class discussion I assert that it is a theological statement, and that Salatin means it to be—even if he does not state that in the documentary. He affirms my assumption in his recent book, The Marvelous Pigness of Pigs: Respecting and Caring for all of God’s Creation.

I immediately heard the phrase as theological because in my ethics class I so frequently talk about living more authentically as the people God created us to be. Christian ethics, in part, is about helping the Markness of Mark flourish. In this book Salatin states that to farm in a way that respects the pigness of pigs or the chickenness of chickens is to honor their creator. It also, he maintains, is the best way to farm. It is a stance of worship and respect, but also practical wisdom. He encourages us to pay attention to the patterns of creation and work with them for the good of pigs, chickens, fields and forests, and our good as well.

Salatin describes himself as a “Christian libertarian environmentalist capitalist lunatic farmer” (xiii). One thing that means is that very few people will agree with everything in this book. More significantly it means that Salatin crosses more divides and has more diversity of friendships than many in today’s increasingly siloed society. He has many conservative Christians friends who worship the Creator and many liberal friends who worship creation. “This book has grown out of the tension between those two camps” (xiii). It is an attempt to persuade evangelicals to embrace, for biblical and theological reasons, the type of farming and earth-care practiced by Salatin and his friends in the other camp.

There are many ways to read the book. Read it to learn about Salatin’s approach to sustainable farming, and ways non-farmers can participate in that approach. Read it for help in thinking of ways to talk about these issues to people you know in his target audience. Or, better yet, read it together with some in that camp. Read it for new biblical and theological insights produced by his thinking theologically about his farming practices. I encourage you to read it and let it challenge you broadly and deeply—not just in relation to specific actions and thoughts. As he works to show the contrast between the order and patterns of God’s creation, and the ways of industrial agricultural I found myself reflecting broadly and deeply on agriculture and beyond. I will share a few examples.

In the mid-1800’s Louis Pasteur saw bacteria through a microscope and developed germ theory to explain illnesses. “He proposed ways to kill these critters. He saw nature as fundamentally flawed and in need of human intervention and fixing” (60). A contemporary of his, Antoine Beauchamp, saw the same things through a microscope, but came to a different conclusion. He developed terrain theory, arguing that there are good bacteria and bad, and it is the condition of the terrain that determines which wins out. Pasteur and his followers looked for ways to kill the germs. Beauchamp explored broadly. He studied the impact of things like sleep deprivation, hygiene, and food quality on the terrain. He looked for ways to have a wellness-inducing terrain where the good bugs would win out over the bad. After introducing these contrasting approaches Salatin spends the rest of the chapter describing how the two approaches play out.

Do we take a more passive, victim mentality about sin—a sin gene or the devil made me do it; or, do we work at the terrain of our lives? Urbanization, without refrigeration or indoor plumbing set up a very negative terrain. “From smoke-clogged homes to manure-clogged streets to brewery-waste-fed-cows, the recipe for disease could not have been better” (62). Milk started making people sick. The solution? Germ theory says, kill the germs in the milk—pasteurization (which also kills the good bacteria). But Salatin points out, “raw milk from grazing cows doesn’t need to be fixed with pasteurization. It’s not broken” (63). Solution, clean up the mess and respect the cowness of cows—let them eat what cows naturally eat. “At sustainable agricultural conferences, most of the workshops are positive how-tos. I almost never hear much discussion of sickness and disease. . . At industrial agricultural conferences . . . nearly all the discussions center around diseases and sicknesses. The overriding desire is how to beat nature, how to win, as if nature is the enemy that must be subjugated like a military conquest” (89). I can applaud Salatin’s points, yet as I take a step back I have to acknowledge that I have been immersed in a germ-theory-world for most of my life. How does this influence me? How does a find-the-cause-of-the-problem-and-kill-it approach play out in other areas of my life?

(Coincidentally, the day after I wrote the previous paragraph I read an article in The New Yorker about a team working to lessen sexual assault at Colombia University. The two professors who lead the effort stated that rather than take the common approach that sees it as an issue of individual behavior and punishment as the solution, they think about it “socio-ecologically: as a matter of how people act within a particular environment. . . Their approach . . . does not ignore personal responsibility; rather, it aims to nudge students toward responsible behavior on a collective scale” [34].) 

Germ-theory-mentality combined with industrial agriculture has produced a food system saturated with fear. Consumers fear contaminated foods and farmers fear disease or pests wiping them out. In response we seek to wrap ourselves in a sanitized bubble—sanitize food, keep out visitors who might carry a germ into a chicken farm, and use chemicals to kill malicious bugs that are present. “A farm of faith says this: if I follow the Creator’s patterns, immunity and wellness will follow.” Salatin is not naïve. He acknowledges that industrial mono-crop farmers have reason to be fearful, and consumers understandably want their milk pasteurized and their chickens dipped in bleach. They have reason to be fearful of the products of a mono-cultural industrial system. Jacques Ellul tolds us that technique always leads us to look for new techniques to solve the problems created by technique. Salatin does what Ellul advocates instead, dig deeper, look for root problems, and trust God and God’s ways not technique. What are other areas in our lives where fear pervades and we have not looked deep enough in search of freedom from our fears?

Book Review: The Omnivore's Dilemma

In The Omnivore’s Dilemma Michael Pollan presents the history of four meals from their source to his plate. He follows the path corn takes from Iowa to his fast-food meal; he compares the journey of two organic meals, one purchased at Whole Foods and the other from a single farm; and he describes the hunting, gathering and growing he did to produce the fourth meal.  

Technique is a dominant theme in the book. Often it is explicitly on the surface. How could one not think of Jacques Ellul and technique when reading sentences like: “There are a great many reasons American cattle came off the grass and into the feedlot, and yet all of them finally come down to the same one: Our civilization and, increasingly, our food system are strictly organized on industrial lines. They prize consistency, mechanization, predictability, interchangeability, and economies of scale” (2006, p. 201).

Yet technique bashing is not Pollan’s primary aim. In fact, Joel Salatin, the farmer most praised in the Omnivore’s Dilemma, uses a lot of technique in doing sustainable agriculture. Here are just two examples. The schedule of what happens on a particular section of pasture is carefully controlled. Chickens follow cattle, and neither are allowed to graze too long; Salatin seeks optimum yield by allowing the grass to grow for a specific amount of time before bringing the cattle back. A super-lightweight portable electronic fence is a vital element in the whole operation.

Contrasting case studies in Pollan offer the opportunity to ask the question: what is the difference between the role of technique at an industrialized cattle feedlot operation and at Joel Salatin’s farm? In one we see what concerned Ellul, the rule of the spirit of technique and its focus on absolute efficiency driving every decision. In the other we see individual techniques and technologies used. Yet at times the most efficient approach is intentionally not taken because it conflicts with the overall goal of seeking to farm in a way that follows nature and leads to good relationships between the farmer and his neighbors and to health for all involved.

Pollan does an excellent job of not demonizing individual actors in the industrial food system. Although he does not present a conspiracy theory, the alienating elements are so strong and effective that at one point I thought: it is as if you asked a commission to make changes to our agricultural food system so that it would ruin our health, make us more oil dependent, damage the environment, and stress farmers in a myriad of ways including economic. There was, of course, no commission, but we do see these results.

As I read Pollan’s books I increasingly found myself reflecting on the biblical theme of the powers. What then does an ethic of freedom look like in relation to the food system today? Pollan provides information, concrete examples of alienation and freedom and he offers guidelines for consumers. A helpful start. We are called by Jesus Christ to go deeper and enabled by the cross and resurrection to do so.