Public Dreams
By Paul Callan
Years ago, societies and cultures seemed far more attentive to, and animated by, healthy rites, rituals, and symbols that defined “us”—the group. In traditional cultures, these rituals taught individuals, and the larger groups to whom they belonged, crucial things like: Who are we? Why do we exist? To what do we aspire and measure ourselves? To whom are we responsible and accountable? How do I become a mature man or woman in society? How do I fit into the greater world and contribute as a productive citizen and member? The unifying product of these rituals was this thing the Greek’s called Ethos, what I like to call public dreams.
I am wondering if, in our rush to modernize, technologize, and pursue individual rights and intellectual mastery, we’ve somehow forgotten the need for public dreams and ethos? Have we lost the deep and vibrant tapestry, woven of communal bonds, perennial knowledge, and wisdom that is the indispensable backbone of healthy groups? And if so– at what cost to modern society?
Here’s the cost. When a society loses its ability to re-initiate, re-galvanize, and thus transform the whole group, it then loses the opportunity to firmly anchor the group to a life-giving ethos and rekindle the deep perennial knowledge that, when present, binds generation-to-generation and builds a solid bridge between past and present. Myth, legend, and lore used to do this for us. Today it seems we’ve traded these powerful mythic symbols that rightly pointed to “us” and substituted those unifying symbols with a far inferior gruel comprised of feel-good creeds pointing mainly to “me.”
When groups fail to revitalize a shared ethos—to celebrate a public dream—the by-product of that failure is an inability to consistently produce these three things that are crucial to enduring greatness: (1) mature elders; (2) people willing to sacrifice for the greater good; and (3) a trusted foundation of wisdom. That is a heck of a price to pay, for minus these three things, groups become prisoner to living solely in a present-tense life, no longer able to feel their past in the wind.
But all is not forgotten, or lost. For example: As a Marine I had the good fortune to be constantly immersed in the cultural waters of an organization still possessing a vibrant ethos and a working mythology. As a Marine I became accustomed to healthy annual initiations, rites and traditions, mythic symbols, legends and lore—all magically conspiring just under the surface to create a trustworthy inner compass and deep fraternal bonds. The Corps’ ethos guided me, shepherded us Marines, to nobler communal purposes and a life distinguished by élan, esprit, and camaraderie. It was to us, the perennial group, not to me, the singular individual, that we were expected to remain Semper Fidelis–Always Faithful. I would imagine Firefighters understand and experience this, too.
My hope as a leader is that we might remember, and thus recapture, our public dreams, for the groups, families, communities, and larger societies to whom we all belong. This is hard work, but it is precisely the kind of necessary soul-work that is the sacred obligation of leaders. Can you—can your group–still feel the past in the wind?
Tweet Share