The Other Caribbean

How should we best live in a world with inequality?

I just went on a cruise in the Caribbean with my in-laws: a celebration of my wife's parents' birthdays. We celebrated on a large beautiful ship that carried us through the warm waters of the Caribbean. The ship was a floating pleasure palace taking us to private beaches with perfect turquoise water.

Perhaps I am already too disillusioned to enjoy this Caribbean, because I have seen the other side of these islands—the side hidden from vacationers. I lived a summer in Haiti eight years ago, so the warm blast of tropics brings to my mind suffering, disease, and death. Unlike our own sterilized tropics of Florida, the paradise of the Caribbean seems to me a bandage hiding a gaping wound of human suffering.

This place has become the perfect escape because here among the impoverished the American can live like a king. We are taught to imagine the poor people as living charmed idyllic lives. Their suffering and squalor is carefully hidden from tourists.

On this cruise another island people, Indonesians, did all the manual labor on the ship. They were hard working and kind to all of us over-eating vacationers. I asked one Indonesian man what he does on his days off, but he has no days off—not a single one in his 11 month work contract. I asked what he does when he goes ashore, but he isn't allowed off the ship. All this labor for what I'm sure I would find a shockingly small salary. This is certainly a job he chose of his own volition, but not in some fair system in which transactions are beneficial to all parties, rather out of desperation because his world contained no opportunities at all. It is his cheap labor that makes this pleasure cruise affordable to Americans.

I don't think all inequality is necessarily wrong, but it is not a thing to desired. It also seems obvious that inequalities easily become opportunity for exploitation of those less advantaged. Our use of the people of these islands for our enjoyment demonstrate a pattern of exploitation, both intentional and unconscious. These island are populated by the decedents of sugar plantation slaves—the sweet, fattening substance was produced by the most brutal form of slavery this continent ever saw. Are we so sure that now our behavior towards them in the tourism industry is not also exploitation? Do we not purchase the destitute of the world cheaply with our dollars?

When I was a boy I first saw third world poverty in Mexico on a vacation. We were American tourists on buses, being taken from a beautiful hotel to a scenic destination. Out the windows I couldn't help but see them, people dressed in rags living in tin shacks. My father saw me staring. He said, “A lot of people here have it very hard, but I am glad we came here. Being here on vacation means the money we spend goes to improve their economy here.” My father is a good man, who worked hard and saved to give his family a nice vacation. He was genuine in his belief that he was being socially responsible with his tourism, and I believed him then.

But I have since lost my confidence that trickle-down economics will save the destitute in a world that is stacked against them. I have also come to believe that coming here to celebrate our good fortune in front of those who have nothing is an unintended insult to them. Treating our fellow man with dignity requires we don't use him wrongly.

I'm not always sure how to live in a world with inequality, but I am certain this will be my last pleasure cruise in the Caribbean.

Buy Nothing Day!

Happy Buy Nothing Day! In response to the mass buying frenzy that happens starting today (an unfortunate manipulation of the traditional thankfulness and giving associated with these holidays) today is declared "Buy Nothing Day" (a holiday that Congress would never dare officialize). So today we remember our humanity and fight the ways that we are defined as and depended on by society to be "consumers." We also reflect on how our own greed and materialism makes us complicit in this sad spectacle.

Perhaps with enough reflection we can realize that the gift of Christ on Christmas would be less honored by unrestrained buying of things that people don't need, but by giving to those we love by serving those whose need is deepest.


PS: Perhaps I should clarify the preachy tone of this blog, by pointing out I am not some monk or Daniel in Babylon who is not soiled by such things. My own guilt in this love of things makes me need a day like this more than anyone.

The Ownership of Things

Returning to the present day:

I bought a new car, the first new car I have ever owned. The old white rattle-trap was becoming unreliable. With so much long-distance driving these days I decided to buy a cheap, reliable, fuel-efficient new car. It is all those things, and it is also fun to drive.

The fact that I like my new black car is concerning. I never really liked the old white car; it was just a functional thing that got me from place to place. During this phase of my life in which I am often alone I find myself becoming attached to things. The fact that my new car fits my values of thrift and environmentalism only increases my sense of attachment.

I was told when I was younger, "Always care about people and use things, not vice-versa." I recall the Sisters of Charity I admired in Haiti. Their cheap flip-flops were the only things they owned in the entire world. They walked freely and joyfully in places where someone with a nice car and a wallet full of credit cards could never have been. Similarly there are places the old white junker could take me that my new black car doesn't go so comfortably. The beat up white car could be left in front of a homeless shelter or driven up these winding Tennessee hollers without the awkwardness that a shiny new car creates.

The fact is that the ownership of nice things isolates one from others. There are certain considerations you must take for your property, that makes you lonelier than before. It seems to me that extreme wealth must be the saddest place a person can be.

As a young and idealistic student, poverty was easy to achieve. Now an idealist with a family and responsibilities I find certain nice things seem unavoidable. I tell myself that these things are still tools I will use to do what I am called to do. But I cannot help but wonder if years from now I might find myself safe behind locked doors fretting over protecting my property from the very ones I had hoped to serve.

The Allure of Wealth in Medicine

I wrote this when I was in Medical School. It is amazing how easily idealism can become greed in the world of medicine. I need to think on it more often as I approach the point when I will finish residency and apply for jobs:

In medical school you work for free. In fact, you pay to work 16 hours a day and go into debt doing so. It conditions us for greed. When I arrived in medical school I thought it a bit vulgar that doctors are so highly paid for the work in human suffering. Now I am ready for the big paychecks. I am tired and the dream of wealthy leisure appeals to me. During the late nights on call I find myself dreaming of a large house deep in the woods far from the rest of the world. I long for the room full of books with the seat by the great fireplace where I can read my books and drink my coffee, safe and secure in the comforts of riches. It is comfortable, safe, unconcerned, and it is a far cry from the ideal I learned in Haiti from the Brothers and Sisters of Charity. Greed creeps in under cover of comfort that I begin to feel that I deserve. Medicine makes one tired. It teaches you that no matter how hard you work suffering always continues.

Temptation whispers in your ear, "Why not look out for your own comfort? You have done enough for your poor suffering brothers and sisters. You have done more than your share. You deserve this. How can you be what they need without taking care of yourself? You are called to share the sufferings of Christ and consider yourself the least among our brethren, but your responsibility of suffering has been paid of in these years of grueling training and long hours. When off-duty you must be pampered, safe, and free from concern for your fellow men. You need to be rich."

And so the physician who should be servant of all suddenly becomes a person of wealth and privilege. I should fear this temptation much more than I do. This new and wealthy "Dr Whittemore" is here to rob you of who you were meant to be. Do not trust his kind and happy face. He means to suck you dry and leave you greedy yet unsatisfied.

-10/29/03