Choosing My Father’s Ties: Changing Systems

When I was a child, my father would come into my room most mornings and ask me to choose which tie he should wear with the suit he had on that day. He usually brought two ties into my room from which I could choose. As I got older, sometimes I felt that neither choice was ideal, and I’d head over to his tie rack to suggest a better option. I adored my dad, and I took my job helping him with his ties quite seriously.

As a humane educator, my job now includes offering other people choices, although the choices revolve around more pressing issues than tie fashions. Offering positive choices is the 4th element of quality humane education, and it’s a critical component to creating a humane, sustainable and peaceful world. Humane education explores the greatest challenges of our time (e.g., global warming, resource depletion, human rights, institutionalized animal cruelty, habitat destruction, overpopulation, economic stability, etc.), and it offers positive choice-making as an integral component of changemaking. Like my father, I try to offer people a couple of choices that are reasonable and good, but sometimes no such choices are available, and my students must head to the “tie rack” of choices to find something better.

When there’s nothing quite good enough on the tie rack – no pattern or fabric that fits – system-changing and creativity are paramount. I never faced an insoluble tie choice with my father, but there were days I lingered for a long time, uncertain about the best choice. The best choice might have entailed designing a new tie.

We need to design new systems to solve many of our entrenched problems. The key is to recognize when a choice is good enough and when to engage fully in the process of designing a MOGO (most good) choice because none are suitable. In my book, Most Good, Least Harm, I offer 7 keys to operationalizing the MOGO principle. Key 5 is “Model your Message and Work for Change.” In other words, wear the best tie you can while designing the best tie possible. We must all engage in system-changing — whether through our work, our volunteerism, or our charitable donations — in order to create the systems that make all our choices MOGO ones. And, at the same time, to the greatest extent possible we must model our message relying on what “ties” currently exist.

For a humane world,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Must It Take Media Stunts to Address Global Problems and Create Real Solutions?

Take a look at the heartwarming and powerful video of 7-year-old Olivia Binfield auditioning on the show Britain’s Got Talent.

When I watched this video I got teary. Britain, and now the world, listened to this little girl speak the truth so eloquently and beautifully. Who could not be moved to reconsider buying an alligator handbag or snakeskin belt?

And yet, I found myself feeling strangely irritated, too. Not by this wonderful little girl, but by the ways in which we fail to respond to pressing issues – like the rapid extinction of countless species – unless they are packaged in a cute, shocking, media attention-grabbing way. While Olivia is a gem, and while I by no means want to diminish what a fantastic job she did, every single day we are losing countless species forever (literally countless, because we don’t even know all the species whose lives are being snuffed out). And the sad reality is that choosing not to buy rhino horn aphrodisiacs or tiger penis Chinese remedies or reptile-skin handbags will hardly scratch the surface of the plight other species face, as their habitats are destroyed through a combination of deforestation, climate change, pollution, and expansion of human settlements. The direct killing of animals to satisfy our desires, while a terrible thing, causes only a tiny fraction of extinctions.

But were Olivia to ask people to buy less stuff in general, to forgo meat (a huge contributor to deforestation, pollution, and climate change – the primary causes of extinctions), to live in smaller, solar-powered homes, to devote their energies to changing entrenched systems that cause environmental harm, and thereby actually prevent so many species from becoming endangered, to elect legislators who will not be beholden to corporate donations and who will work for serious, far-reaching, and systemic change for a restorative world, her performance might not have received the three “yes” votes to bump her into the next level of competition. In fact, she might not have been on Britain’s Got Talent at all.

So I reluctantly find myself trying to think up media stunts to gain attention for the field of humane education, because far too few people have even heard of it, even though it is an educational approach that holds the key to solving all of our interconnected challenges, including the rapid extinction of species. Humane education isn’t sexy; it’s not attention-grabbing, and hence it’s largely unknown. But the truth is that if every child were to learn about the interconnected issues of human rights, animal protection, and environmental preservation in school; if every child were provided with the knowledge, tools, and motivation to be solutionaries for a better world; if every student understood that they had the capacity and the skill to ensure that the systems in their chosen professions were just, humane, and restorative, we would solve the world’s problems. We would raise a generation of Olivias.

Any ideas out there? Any stunts we at the Institute for Humane Education could perform? Any outrageous acts that would garner media attention for this powerful field that could truly change the world by striking at the root problems and engendering wise solutions? Any brilliant 2-minute viral videos that would send people in droves to become trained humane educators to bring this work to every child and teen across the globe?

I look forward to your ideas.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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My Failure to Live By the MOGO Principle on Flight 35

This past weekend I had a long trip ahead of me to Seattle for Green Fest. Although thrilled by the opportunity to speak on the main stage about humane education, I was dreading the travel. In the best case scenario, I would have a 17 hour trip, with three separate flights and a five-hour layover in Boston. Plus I was stuck in a middle seat across the country.

When, about an hour from Portland, Oregon, a flight attendant asked if there were any medical personnel on board, I didn’t think much of it. I’ve been on lots of flights when this question has been asked, and it’s never been a big emergency. This time, however, it was. A man a few seats behind me had had a heart attack. Within minutes, he was laid in the aisle as two doctors tried valiantly to save him with CPR and oxygen. For 25 minutes they worked, shouting things as he flat-lined, contorting themselves in the aisle and standing on seats and armrests to position themselves properly during a choppy flight.

We made an emergency landing in eastern Washington, and the EMTs came on board and dragged the man down the aisle and off the plane on a cloth stretcher, but when I spoke to the doctor who was performing CPR on him (a cardiac anesthesiologist), he said that the man wasn’t going to make it.

And while we were a quiet group of passengers who didn’t interfere, intervene, or get riled up ourselves, we were also strangely unengaged. I talked to the two men on either side of me about what was happening, but as I felt tears ready to stream down my face, I quickly suppressed them. That a man was dying in our midst and the best we could do was sit quietly, was surreal. And even as I felt helpless and horrified, I also felt myself focusing selfishly on the delay in the flight and worried that I wouldn’t make it to Seattle that night. And then I found myself horrified that I could even be thinking about that while a man lay dying.

When I missed my connecting flight – the last to Seattle that night – I did my utmost to ensure that I got in line quickly to get a hotel, and took a seat at the front of the hotel van so that I could get in line quickly for a room at the hotel desk. I had a long weekend of tabling and speaking ahead of me, and I knew I’d be sleep-deprived enough without waiting in a long line for a bed for the night. The New Yorker in me came out in no time. And indeed, I was near the front of the line, and, it turned out, the last to be able to check into that particular hotel. The doctor who had worked to save this man’s life was one of many who would be transferred by the van to another hotel to wait in another line, only to awaken in a few short hours to continue his trip for a conference in Vancouver. I never even thought to let him take my spot. I regret that. I regret my lack of generosity. Oh, I had my big emotional reaction, sobbing the next morning as I thought about this man’s death, but I couldn’t even muster enough gratitude for this doctor’s efforts to give him a room sooner the night before. Granted I, too, had a big day and weekend ahead of me, but really. He had tried to save a man’s life, while I sat quietly in my seat following instructions.

So now on my flight back home, I’m doing a bit of soul-searching. I’m thinking of the MOGO principle – to do the most good and the least harm to myself, other people, animals, and the environment – a principle I try to live by. I put myself ahead of everyone else when I disembarked that night; I did not live by a principle I profess to hold dear.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind: Raising a Humane Child in Challenging Times, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

Image courtesy of sylvar via Creative Commons.

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Lightening Up and Letting Go: Learning From Fighting Dogs

Yesterday afternoon, two of our dogs, Ruby and Elsie, got into a fight. They’ve been fighting periodically over the past 5 months, and each fight has gotten worse. I had thought that their last fight, well over a month ago, was the final battle, and that they’d worked things out. Basically, Elsie, now an adolescent, has begun to irritate Ruby, soon to turn 8. When we first adopted Elsie, who was around 6 months old, she was like a fountain of youth for Ruby. The two played and played, and we were delighted that Ruby had a best friend, sister, and playmate.

But this year, Elsie’s been pestering Ruby, sidling up next to her, on her tail, challenging her status as queen bee in our household, and Ruby has been voicing her displeasure by growling. Elsie doesn’t take the hint, and Ruby has attacked her half a dozen times. The first couple of times Elsie barely fought back, but yesterday, she fought back hard. Usually, I let them work it out and no one is hurt; but this time, they wouldn’t stop. I tried everything I could think of: yelling at them, tossing a sheet over them, throwing their stainless steel dog bowls, and finally getting a broom. The broom worked. I got them apart. We were all shaken.

And when this happened, my husband and I were soon to hit the road to drive to Massachusetts to watch our son’s breakdancing performance at school, and I didn’t want to leave our housesitter to handle any fallout from the fight. So I called the motel where we’d be staying and asked about bringing Elsie. They said yes.

Elsie traveled for six hours, four hours longer than the longest road trip she’d ever been on with us, arriving at a strange motel room to spend the night. She seemed a bit anxious, but she cozied up in the bed and fell asleep. In the morning we went to the school to watch the performance and stopped to take Elsie for a brief walk in the rain. A carpet of pink flower petals lay on the ground and Elsie lay among them, a beautiful sight. A balm after the storm that had precipitated her joining us.

A couple of hours later we were back on the road home. Elsie was a good traveler, confused though she must have been. When she and Ruby saw each other upon our return they were wary. Elsie slinked into the house, obviously worried. But then they ran outside – where they are always best friends – before coming back in and slipping into their uncertain patterns in the house. Ruby growling quietly; Elsie refusing to back off.

I hope there won’t be any more big fights. I hope that Elsie will stop challenging Ruby’s status in our household, or if she simply must be the alpha, that Ruby will let go as she ages. I hope that Elsie will learn not to be such a pest around Ruby, and that Ruby will just lighten up.

As I write these words, I find them familiar. I see the ways I, too, can be a pest in my family (like Elsie), and the ways I, too, can be inflexible around my likes and dislikes (like Ruby). I see the ways in which as much as we love one another, we, too, can fight (although we do so with words, not teeth). I see the ways in which we each seek control in different forms and styles and the ways in which lightening up would be just the solution to many a conflict.

Maybe if I work on my own behavior, Ruby and Elsie will miraculously solve their behavioral challenges, too.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind: Raising a Humane Child in Challenging Times, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Compassionate Communication for the Planet: Asking People to Pick Up Their Butts

Ever since I was in high school, if I saw someone throw their cigarette on the ground, I responded. Sometimes I would pick it up and hand it back to them and say, “Excuse me, you dropped this.” Sometimes I would honk if I was behind someone who threw their butt out the window. (And once, stopped as we were at a red light in Philadelphia, the driver got out, picked it up, ran to my car, and apologized to me.)

I was recently in Florida, and I saw a man throw his butt on the sandy ground at the hotel before ascending the steps to the outdoor bar. I called out to him saying, “Excuse me, would you mind picking up your cigarette butt and throwing it in the trash?”

He was miffed, but he walked over and bent to pick it up, commenting that he wasn’t the only one (there were several butts on the ground). I said I knew, but that I’d seen him throw his on the ground. He got very testy and leaned towards me with the butt at my face saying, sarcastically, that he’d love to do that for me.

I walked away, shakily, wondering if my efforts had done any good.

I thought about Kim Korona, one of the graduates at the Institute for Humane Education who speaks so kindly and compassionately to people. I wondered if she would have spoken to this man, and if so what she would have said, and what his response would have been.

I reflected upon my goal. Truth be told, for years my comments stemmed more from my irritation that smokers don’t consider throwing their butts on the ground to be littering (and this made me mad), than from a sincere desire to use the wisest, most effective means to keep the planet from being trashed. I could just remove the butts myself, if my goal was simply to keep that inch of ground from being littered. But my comments were meant to wrong, and perhaps embarrass, the person. But now my motivation is deeper. I’m trying, in my own way, to be a humane educator all the time, and this means attempting to use my best communication skills to convey the importance of treating ourselves, each other, other species, and the environment with respect. My hope is that in speaking to someone, he or she will be less likely to litter, more likely to consider the consequences of their choices. Perhaps this is naïve, but I feel like I have to try, and now I make every effort not to let my irritation seep into my voice and comments.

What, if anything, would you have said or done? What is MOGO (most good) in this situation?

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Buy Change: Vote with Your Dollars

At Green Fest San Francisco, I met Jono Korchin, and we talked about the power of our purchases to create change. As a humane educator, I’m frequently telling students that even though they can’t vote in elections until they’re 18, they vote every time they spend their money. Each dollar is a vote that says, “Do it again.” While promoting consumerism and spending may not be the best way to create positive change in the world (although it does increase job opportunities), promoting the right kind of consumerism can definitely create positive changes. We all buy stuff, so in addition to the message to live more simply and less materialistically, it’s important to simultaneously promote the idea of MOGO (most good) purchases.

Jono and Season Korchin share some products on an episode of The View, which demonstrate how choosing a certain salad dressing, paper, soap, and handbag, can actually make an enormous difference. Take a look:

Shop MOGO,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Look Beyond Either/Or to the Both-And

I’m swamped with our new graduate programs right now, so here’s a repost from 7/20/09 that I hope you’ll enjoy.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the ways in which we humans seem to gravitate towards “either/or” choices. Either we protect Northern Spotted Owls or people’s logging jobs. Either we invade Iraq or not. Either we pull the troops out or stay. There are more. Either we trust our minds or hearts. Either we are Christian or Muslim. Either we are Republican or Democrat.

Yes, there are people who want to protect owls and jobs, think beyond either/ors and work creatively to come up with the wisest choices in Iraq, trust both their minds and hearts, see the connections between all religions, and consider themselves Independents. But it seems to me such people are the minority.

Among activists, the either/ors are sometimes cast starkly: either someone (or some company or industry) is good or evil. The CEO of Altria (formerly Philip Morris), of Exxon-Mobil, of Monsanto –- they must be evil, while the CEO of Working Assets/CREDO must be good.

It’s just not this simple. But complexity is, well, complex. Commitment to seeing both-ands instead of either/ors demands more from us. It may at first even appear wishy-washy, as if you’ve lost your passion and your commitment if you don’t immediately “take sides.” It shouldn’t. Instead, a commitment to both-and is a commitment to problem-solving at the deepest level. A realization that people have the capacity for dangerous, unwise, unhealthy choices, as well as compassionate, kind, and brilliant choices means that we can try to influence the former, rather than call people names and divide the population into us and thems.

There will be many times when taking sides is exactly what you need to do, but let’s not let side-taking become a knee-jerk reaction to everything that is presented to us in either/or terms. You’ll find either/ors everywhere. Listen for them. And then see if you can determine a more nuanced both-and…and a solution that works for all.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm and Above All, Be Kind: Raising a Humane Child in Challenging Times
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Joy in Observation & the Right Attitude

A foot of powdery snow fell on a recent Friday, so early the next morning I put my x-country skis in my car and drove 20 miles to Mount Desert Island to ski on the carriage roads in Acadia National Park. I noticed that the thick snow-covered trees at home gave way to sparkling, ice-covered branches on the island, but it was so beautiful I didn’t pause to think what this might mean for the trails.

When I began the 14-mile loop around several mountains, the snow was not nearly as deep as at home and had a thick layer of crunchy ice, with a bit of powder on top. The ice wasn’t thick enough to ski atop, rather each glide ended with a thump as my weight (all 96 pounds of it) caused the crust to break. It was a slog, but I suspected that the volunteer trail groomer would be out soon. Or some other skiers coming from the other direction would have broken some trail, too. I plowed on.

Despite the hard work, it was breathtaking. The evergreens were weighed down with thick, crusty snow and the tips of the needles shone with teardrop-shaped icicles. The deciduous trees were sparkling in the sunlight, all lit up by a coating of ice. I followed a coyote’s tracks for a couple of miles and then a fox track, which converged with the coyote’s. There were rabbit tracks, mouse tracks, and squirrel tracks, too, all made within a few hours. Perhaps some of these animals were watching me. I was so noisy with my skis and poles crunching the ice that they certainly could hear me coming, but perhaps they observed me, as I observed their tracks. For about 1/4 mile, I skied alongside a human’s footprints accompanied by a dog. It was interesting to compare the dog prints to the coyote and fox prints, the wild canines’ so different from their domesticated cousin’s.

Then I noticed another kind of print in the snow, random and patternless. It took me a little while to figure out where they came from. They were leaf prints from the oak and beech leaves that had been clinging to the trees since last fall, finally released by the stormy winds, skittering on the snow before coming to rest in little drifts.

I felt good about all this noticing; it brought a kind of joy, this simple observation of what was around me.

Then I reached the fork where I expected to see others’ tracks. Alas there were none, and the trail groomer hadn’t yet made it this far, either. I faced a long and arduous uphill. I began the climb enthusiastically, but by the time I reached the top and the next fork and there were still no tracks or groomed trails, my spirits sank. By now the sky was overcast. I was only at the halfway point and this side of the mountain had borne the brunt of the storm. Whereas the other side had a thin layer of powder atop the crunchy stuff, here it was mostly ice. Each glide resulted in shards cracking and a deep, unpleasant, body-jarring thump. And I still had another slow uphill before I’d reach a point where I might have a downhill respite. When I did finally reach that point, going down was hardly easier, as my skis got stuck in the ice, tripping me up. I finally paused for a snack and something to drink, and the first and only live animal I was to see, a woodpecker, flew next to me and pecked away at a birch while I sipped my tea. I was so appreciative of that bird. The woodpecker, along with gorgeous blue-green ice overhanging the cliffs beside me, renewed my spirits.

The slog resumed. My spirits declined more quickly this time, especially when I reached the next fork and the next big uphill stretch and it, too, had seen neither skier nor groomer. Finally, I ran into two good friends coming my way who listened to my grumpy complaints about being tired (I’d now been skiing 4 hours and had broken 10 miles of trail) and then turned around so that we skied together. I thought of how my mood had changed, from joyful appreciation of the tremendous beauty; from rapt attention to every detail, to exhaustion, frustration and moodiness. That in itself was a lesson. I could have continued to observe carefully. I could have recognized the blessings surrounding me, rather than bemoaning the lack of groomed trails and the unexpected icy conditions. I could have stopped wishing that I’d taken a different route, or that I’d gone skiing closer to home where the snow was snow, not ice, instead of focusing on the “what ifs.” My friends were just what I needed though: ears to listen to a few minutes of complaints, so that I could put my grumpiness aside and revel in the now groomed trail I was delighted to ski upon.

Joy in observation; changing moods; kind listeners. Attitude may not be everything, but it counts for a lot.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

Image courtesy of Roland Tanglao via Creative Commons.

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Prepare to Be Amazed By the Humble Starling

I grew up in Manhattan where I was exposed to few species of birds, primarily just sparrows and pigeons. Pigeons were commonly referred to as rats with wings, but I thought they were lovely, and I enjoyed watching the usually elderly people (described as eccentric and generally avoided) feeding them in the park. The pigeons surrounded their benefactors, cooing and alighting on their shoulders. So while pigeons were largely despised, there were those of us who loved them.

I remember the first time I saw a European starling. I was startled by such a gorgeous bird, with a bright yellow beak and lavender, turquoise, and green iridescent feathers shining amidst their otherwise speckled feathers. I asked the person with me what kind of bird was that!? She was shocked that I didn’t know what a starling was. Introduced into the U.S. in the late 1800s, they are now considered an invasive species that competes with native birds and ruins crops. I understand that problem, but the consequence of being branded as a pest can be pretty awful for individual animals who, through no fault of their own, are poisoned and trapped in droves.

I believe it’s important to appreciate each species with whom we share this planet – even if, through our unwise actions, we’ve introduced them into places they didn’t naturally arise. It’s important, because when we vilify another species, whether passenger pigeon (now extinct because of the genocide we perpetrated upon them), or mosquitoes (now resistant to more and more pesticides), we often cause more harm than good. We have a habit of making choices that are both unwise initially, and unwise in response.

I don’t have an answer to how to solve the problems caused by introduced species, but in the case of the European starling, it’s worth pausing to marvel at these incredible birds. Then perhaps we can attempt to generate solutions that are best for all: humans, the environment, and other species.

Prepare to be amazed:

For a healthy and humane world,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

Image courtesy of Rachel Davies via Creative Commons.

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The Scourge of Hateful Commentary – The Call to Be Kind

Yesterday, Yahoo! News placed an excerpt from my book, Most Good, Least Harm, (that had been posted awhile earlier by Simon & Schuster under the title “10 Easy Ways to Become a Better Person”) on their front page. I found this out when my and the Institute for Humane Education’s websites got a surprisingly large number of hits, and when I started receiving hate mail.

The excerpt was from the end of Most Good, Least Harm in a section which offered a short summation about how to make choices that do the most good and least harm to oneself, other people, animals and the environment. The section was titled, “10 Principles for MOGO Living,” (MOGO being short for doing the most good and the least harm).

Personally, I would never have chosen the new title, “10 Easy Ways to Become a Better Person” for a number of reasons. First, I don’t teach about being a better person; I teach about making choices that do more good and less harm to ourselves and others. Second, the 10 principles are about choices that create a better world rather than better people. But despite the fact that the title could have been off-putting for a list about making MOGO choices, it was hard to believe the staggering outpouring of vitriol that followed. I have never been called so many names before, by people who know nothing about me other than from a short excerpt, taken out of context and given a misleading title, from a book I wrote that is meant to offer people ways to make their lives more meaningful while contributing to a healthier, more just, and more humane world.

The irony was that I’d already written a post for today. It was a short piece with links to several newspaper articles, one of which was the Wall Street Journal’s recent excerpt of Amy Chua’s new book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, which elicited massive amounts of hate mail itself. I’d read that excerpt, and I, too, felt hostile toward Amy Chua. Now I know better than to judge Amy Chua by an excerpt. I pulled my blog post and wrote this instead.

It can be satisfying to vent our anger, especially from the safety of our computer keyboards, but it is damaging, not just to the recipients of our anger, but to all of us. When we fail to dig into information deeply and explore thoroughly, and when our discourse becomes crass and cruel, we close doors to understanding and learning.

I’ve learned from this experience to be ever more careful about my responses to what I read in the news, and to try, ever more diligently, to be kind.

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm and Above All, Be Kind

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